


i've battled hard with the face in the mirror

by notavodkashot



Series: watch as our fire rages, our hearts are never tame [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Emotions are hard and they happen a lot, Food is the key to world peace, Leon has no idea what to do with his life please be kind to him, Leon is a good big brother, Leon is hypercompetent about some things, Leon said so, Leon's POV, Leon's anxiety continues to be the third wheel in this relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Raihan is the best, Raihan is the best rival, Slow Burn, and a good friend, and a real goddamn himbo about everything else, at everything, lots and lots of dragons, slow realizations, so I heard you liked worldbuilding so I added more, some of which happen to be babies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 168,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notavodkashot/pseuds/notavodkashot
Summary: One day he woke up and he was done: with the League and Macro Cosmo, the titles and the sponsors. He was free! Except no one told him how goddamn scary freedom could be.(Or, Leon tries to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Raihan being part of that was just... inevitable, at this point.)
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan
Series: watch as our fire rages, our hearts are never tame [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660219
Comments: 555
Kudos: 905





	1. prices paid, truths learned

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel/companion fic to [_dream in my soul, and i won't let it go_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642855), from Leon's POV. You probably want to read that one first, for context.

When his mum saw him standing in the doorway, sheepish grin and all, she’d cried. 

It was the good kind of cry, though, so Leon didn’t feel too bad for crying a little himself, when he got pulled into a tight, tight hug. There was something fundamentally comforting about his mum, this vast, encompassing warmth that reminded Leon of being small and scared, and then instantly reassured, the moment she was there to hold him and promise it would be alright. 

It would be alright. 

He’d never done anything quite as scary, as standing in the center of the Stadium, the day before, and announcing to the world that both him and Gloria would be stepping away from League business. Hop had known and looked at him with bright, loving eyes, as always, not a hint of disappointment, just the way Gloria had assured him he would. His parents had known, of course – they had to, he had to tell them, he’d called them, months before, after an embarrassing breakdown with Raihan on the phone, and his father had said, _to hell with it, come home_ , and his mother had promised he’d always had a home, with them, and then… 

But he’d still stood there, under the judging eye of the audience – the audience was _everything_ , whispered the voice in the back of his head, the one that sounded like Rose had, when they’d first met, fatherly and kind and not at all monstrous like – and braced himself for outrage. For fury. For the endless tsunami of disappointment and hate to wash over him, the same way every nightmare he’d ever had played out in his head, for years. 

It only occurred to him, now, to wonder if those nightmares had been nightmares only because he’d been wanting this freedom since forever, and he’d always been told he could never have it. But whenever he stumbled on the thought, he felt sad, rather than angry. People kept expecting him to be angry about so many things, ever since Rose had gone mad and tried to invoke the Darkest Day, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be truly angry about it. Not about anything that was supposedly done to him, at least – oh, he’d been furious, when Raihan had told him, about Piers and Spikemuth, and the right descriptor was _livid_ , when he’d gone and realized that had not been an isolated case, but a well-worn weapon in Rose’s business arsenal, blackmailing and blacklisting and otherwise bulldozing over other’s lives, and now Leon had spent god knew how long trying to restitute those whose livelihoods were ruined for the sake of Rose’s vision for Galar – because at least himself, he thought, he’d gone in, eyes-wide open, and every time, he’d had a choice. 

He’d been ten, sure, when he started, but he’d had a choice, and he could see, looking back, step by step, how he’d given up those choices, one by one, for the sake of convenience. For the sake of his own selfish wants. It was comfortable, to be the Chairman’s Champion, an obedient cog in the monstrous machinery that was Macro Cosmo. After all, the Chairman knew best. After all, the Chairman was so kind, so willing to work with Leon and everything Leon wanted. 

God, he’d been so _stupid_. 

The audience hadn’t been mad. Not as he’d feared, of course. There was no pelting of rotten food, no spitting and hissing and hands reaching out to tear him apart, limb by limb. Just a quiet expectation that erupted in a cheer, when Gloria struck a pose and Leon was left with no choice but do the same. There had been cheers and a new champion – not like him, though, not anymore, never again, Leon was going to tear down that figure, one choking expectation at the time, now that he knew it for what it was – and a blind trust in him, to show Galar what was to come. 

Raihan had invited him to his Big Losers Party, again, and instead Leon had spent the night throwing up in his suite at the Rose, heaving out every bit of panic he’d swallowed down while the cameras were rolling. Around midnight, he’d walked out of the hotel, out into the chilly spring air, and wondered if there was a train running that he could catch, but of course, Carl was there, corviknight and all, ready to ferry him home one last time. 

Then he’d been home, clinging to his parents, and falling asleep in a bed he hadn’t laid on in _years_. 

It was quarter past six now, as he stood in the kitchen and awkwardly rummaged about, trying to find a mug to serve himself some tea and trying not to crumble inside out at the realization he couldn’t quite remember where such things were kept. He should probably go back to bed, really, but old habits died hard. He woke up at five o’clock, every day, no matter where he was or what he’d done the night before, and he was ready by seven. Before, that was the time when Oleana would call him and give him his itemized schedule for the day: his first meeting would start at seven fifteen, eight if he had to travel out of whatever town he was staying, and his last one would end somewhere around nine, with plenty enough time for Carl to ferry him over to his new hotel, get dinner and fall into exhausted sleep sometime before midnight. Day in, day out. His clothes had been prepared for him, his meals scheduled and pre-selected, his keynotes written for him… All he had to do was play his part. All he had to do was smile at every eye and camera around him – they were always watching, Rose told him, over and over again, in the gentle voice of a mentor, encouraging Leon to be consciously aware of himself at all times, ready to avoid causing a PR mishap by any means – and follow the script and then everything flowed neatly, falling into place as per the Chairman’s designs. 

It was more than a year now, that the Chairman was gone, and Leon was left to deal with all the ways things didn’t just… flow anymore. He had to deal with the people that had been stepped on and shoved aside and for whom trusting the Chairman hadn’t been a choice. It had been ugly, in an exhausting way, but he’d realized, as they turned to him for help and guidance and some kind of answer, that if he didn’t do it, no one else would. He wasn’t bitter, he could still see the things the Chairman had promised that were worth preserving. It was messy and complicated, and he realized that not everything was bad. Not everything was terrible. Everyone was so angry, about Rose, and Leon understood why, but there was good there, among the bad. There were things worth preserving and protecting, that people were entirely too willing to throw out just for their association with the Chairman. He’d stood there, those first days, and realized the implications of Galar deciding to reject Macro Cosmo and everything associated with it. The people who’d lose their jobs, the hospitals and towns that would lose power, the million tiny things he’d spent fifteen years advertising and helping weave into what Galar understood to be part of normalcy. That’s why he’d stayed, when the board came to him. That’s why he’d agreed to lend his name and his face and his fame, to protect Galar from imploding right under his nose. 

But he couldn’t just stand there and not do something, be _better_ , if he had the chance to change things. And of course, it turned out being Champion had been a good training school to become Chairman, with the crazy schedule and the endless meetings and the winning smiles and the good PR everywhere. 

He was so, so tired, now, and so afraid it was all going to collapse under its own weight, and then who’d be to blame? Rose was locked up, hidden from view, unable to shoulder anymore blame. If it all failed, now, it would be Leon’s fault. It’d be his doing, if things didn’t work out, because he was too weak and too selfish and too easily convinced, to step away. 

After all, Gloria had a right to want a life of her own, and Leon respected that. But he’d already given up sixteen years of his own, to the League, to Macro Cosmo. Did he really have a right to walk away? Wasn’t he just dooming someone else to take his place? He’d tried so hard to make himself obsolete, to split his workload and put in and endless list of failsafes to prevent another Rose from happening. And to prevent another one of him, as well. And it felt so selfish, deep down, to not want anyone to live the way he had so far. It felt whiny and weak and terrible, this immeasurable leap between realizing he felt sick at even contemplating forcing his own lived life on someone else, and accepting he didn’t want it anymore. It wasn’t so bad, he kept trying to argue, with himself, with the endless echo chamber in the back of his head, Rose and Oleana and the board and Gloria and his parents. It hadn’t been all bad. There had been good times, too. There had been moments of genuine joy and delight, and he didn’t know how to reconcile those with the visceral certainty that if he didn’t tear his post apart and rework the system itself until it was impossible for anyone to be stuck the same way he’d been, he’d failed at his job. 

At the same time, it seemed so insurmountable a task, that there was no way he could have possibly succeeded already, and the anxiety over failure kept bubbling up in the back of his throat, threatening to make him hurl again. 

“Leon.” 

Leon startled at the sound of his own name and nearly dropped the mug clutched tightly in his hands, looking up to find his mum standing by the doorway, soft smile and gentle eyes, and he was ten again, sneaking downstairs for one last snack before going to bed. 

“Morning, mum,” he said, placing the mug on the counter, lest he ended up dropping it. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” 

Her smile brightened significantly as she shook her head. 

“Not at all!” She said, and then leaned in, conspiratorially. “It’s bath day, after all.” 

“Bath day?” Leon asked, blinking, and then stepped back when she entered the kitchen proper. 

“Yep,” she said, and winked. “Why don’t you help me with breakfast?” She paused, head tilted to the side. “For old time’s sake?” 

Leon found himself beaming at the idea, and falling into step with surprising ease. He was eight again, coming downstairs, two steps at the time, endless energy demanding to be spent, and helping out with the eagerness of someone who wanted nothing more but to _do_ something. They made pancakes, sharing space in the kitchen, and chatting idly about nothing, which Leon appreciated the kindness of, considering the many things they could be chatting about – the future, the announcement, the many, many things that Leon got hives thinking about honestly – and instead played around sprinkling chocolate chips and strips of bacon into the pancake stacks they were making. It was fun and nice and another solid reminder that it was going to be okay, all of it, even if sometimes Leon caught himself worrying about it. 

It was fine. 

Then he realized his mum was guiding him outside, where his dad had just setup a table, and that they’d actually made enough pancakes to feed a small village. 

“It’s bath day, son,” his dad said, eyebrows arched mischievously as he took the plates from Leon’s hands and gestured him to take a seat. “Breakfast and a show around here.” 

“Morning, morning!” Gloria’s mum said, letting herself into their yard with a sleepy yet very pleased smile on her face. “As promised, I brought the honey,” she added, taking a seat next to Leon’s mum and placing a dozen little jars onto the table. “Oh, hi Leon.” 

“Good morning, ma’am,” Leon said, because he was utterly lost, but that was no reason to be rude. “What’s,” he began, and then trailed off as he saw a hydro pump shoot off into the sky, somewhere behind her house. “Oh.” 

Postwick was a minuscule town. It had been small, when Leon had become Champion, the first time, but now it seemed even smaller, with Wedgehurst having grown so much over the years. He remembered the inauguration of the new train station had been one of the first events he’d attended as Champion, but it was hard to remember it not being there since forever. In a weirdly selfish way, Leon was glad the station hadn’t been built in Postwick proper – it made no sense, really, considering Postwick was, strictly speaking, seven farms and about as many families – because at least then, Postwick was allowed to remain as tranquil and small as Leon remembered it. It was no exaggeration to say the entire town fit in one table, as indeed, Leon watched a bit awkwardly as the neighbors started filing in, relaxed and cheerful, carrying their own offerings to add to the table. Across the river, in the vast fields that surrounded Gloria’s house, they could see two very big legendary dogs try to squirm their way away from a legendary bath they were apparently going to get. 

It took Leon entirely too long to realize that Eternatus, the enormous, dangerous, vicious dragon of doom, poison and not insignificant amount of hate that had delivered him his first true defeat in life, was perched along the hill, sprawled out and immobile, watching the commotion through its weird, crystalized eyes and seemingly content to just… be, while Hop and Gloria laughed and screamed, trying to corner down the fussy pokemon. 

The table cheered every success, but conversation also spread about, as Leon found himself sitting between his parents and answering polite inquiries about his time outside the village, how long he planned to stay, and nothing particularly important. Leon was struck by how nice it was, to not be the automatic center of attention, and dug into his breakfast with a small smile, as he contemplated the thought. 

Eventually, long after the food had mostly been depleted and everyone had moved to chatting about the truly important things, like weather and harvest yields, Gloria and Hop approached them, soaking wet and deliriously cheerful, followed by two very indignant legendary dogs that laid down along the stone fence and refused to acknowledge the applause they were received with as they settled in to dry out in the sun. 

“That was quite a battle,” Leon said, watching them take a seat across from him with a bright smile. “Very exciting!” 

“Very wet, you mean,” Hop laughed, rubbing his face with his hands and then reaching out to serve himself from the leftovers. “Turns out there’s a lot of things people don’t think about, when they hear you caught a legendary pokemon!” 

“Like the bathing,” Gloria snorted, and then tore out a piece of pancake and fed it to the sobble that still remained comfortably perched on her shoulders, as always, “sun or otherwise.” 

And then, somewhere in the back of his head, the date clicked into place and he resisted the urge to burst out laughing. 

“The unmovable monthly appointment, I take it?” Leon asked, head tilted to the side as he remembered the literal juggling that he’d indulged in to accommodate Gloria’s request – demand, really – to be absent certain days. 

“Yup,” Gloria chirped, spreading honey on her pancakes. “Told ya,” she added, tearing off a bit of pancake and offering it to her sobble, pointedly not looking at him, “one of us gotta have her priorities figured out.” 

“Ouch,” Leon laughed, wincing dramatically. “Critical hit there, huh.” 

Gloria shrugged indolently. 

“Merciless, really.” 

* * *

Being home reminded him, oddly enough, of the half week he spent crashing Raihan’s guest room: he knew objectively this would be fundamentally different from his usual hotel stay, but the fact it was so foreign to him was disconcerting. 

He knew hotels, was the thing. He knew the layouts of the different chains – always the same chains, all affiliated with Macro Cosmo, all instructed precisely on what to put in his rooms and where – for rooms and floors and amenities. He knew the hotels that had pools and the ones that had weight rooms and the ones where it was best if he limited his morning exercise to a treadmill run. He knew the routine, so profoundly ingrained in him that he still woke up at five every morning, even though he had nothing at all to do, and so he stayed in bed until six, when he heard his parents make their way downstairs, and then he figured it was okay for him to come down and offer to help – he loved helping, it was the only part of this new, strange reality without structured routines that made sense, helping his mum with breakfast and lunch and dinner and finding fulfillment in the simple pleasure of _making_ something. 

This was his home, this was the house he grew up in. The place he’d been promised he could always come back to. The place he yearned for the most, when he was tired or sick or just missing the sound of his parent’s voices. It should have been comforting, but it felt strange, instead. The same kind of strange Raihan’s home had been: the houses reflected their owners, and he knew those owners rather well, he thought, but not well enough to really understand their homes. Leon felt about his mum’s collection of jars and his dad’s fussing about his contest flowers in the backyard, about the same way he’d felt about the dragon window decals in Raihan’s home: they made perfect sense with what he knew about their owners but he felt weird that he apparently didn’t know them well enough to guess about their existence before they were introduced. 

It reminded him of all the tiny things he didn’t really know, about the people he loved, and how all together they were not so little anymore. 

It felt like failure, the sort Leon was not good at handling. 

His dad left for the market every day after breakfast, not because he had to, really, but because he enjoyed the haggling and the bickering about prices with the same passion Leon loved battling, so mornings were spent with his mum, helping with dishes and chores and just chatting about nothing. Then it would be lunchtime, and Leon felt obligated to accompany her to Wedgehurst, just so he could carry her bags after she bought stuff to cook lunch and dinner. Afterwards, Leon sat in the backyard and spent the afternoon looking after his team, playing more than training for all he tried to make sure they were doing alright. By the time the sun was setting, he was back inside, offering to help some more – to feel useful, somehow, like he wasn’t just spending his entire days doing nothing at all – watching with endless fascination the myriad of things his mum could conjure into a plate without much fuss at all. 

And it was fine, really. It was the kind of slow, peaceful life he’d have led, if he’d been defeated at some point during his Gym Challenge, or if his title had been claimed before now. It was a good life, he knew that, it just… 

Well, it was _boring_. 

His dad’s rounds in the market were pretty meaningless, Leon knew, because most Postwick farms were subcontracted to several Macro Cosmos subdivisions for the next three decades at least – he’d seen the contracts, among the million things that had crossed his inbox at some point, having read Postwick and been unable to stop digging until he made sure his hometown would be fine and not in danger of being exploited the same way Spikemuth had been, under Rose’s control – but he just liked chatting with his friends and talking about yields and soil quality in ways Leon honestly didn’t quite fully understand. His mum made food for three out of habit, and he couldn’t quite stop the wince every time he remembered he hadn’t been that third person in forever. Hop didn’t even officially live in the house anymore, splitting his time evenly between Sonia’s spare room in Wedgehurst, Professor Magnolia’s spare room in the lake house and apparently camping out with Gloria somewhere out in the wild area. Leon absolutely did not begrudge his brother his enthusiasm pursuing his new career, but he’d have liked to spend more time with him – any, really. Still, he tried to be supportive, just the way Hop had always been supportive of him, over the years. 

He hated the thought, every time it crawled its way into his consciousness. It felt childish and unkind, and he hated feeling that way. 

So he offered to help more, he tried harder. He’d wanted this, after all. He’d worked so hard for it, ever since he’d reached the conclusion that he was allowed to want it. He felt ungrateful, whenever he found himself bubbling inside out with restlessness, like there was something intrinsically wrong with him, that prevented him from finding the sort of peaceful happiness he saw in others. 

He wasn’t really surprised that whenever his thoughts found themselves spiraling down into something unpleasant, his pokemon nudged him for it. They were his closest friends, after all, the ones who’d stayed with him no matter what. 

“It’s okay,” Leon said, feeling charizard’s nose bumping against the back of his neck, a grumbling little noise echoing inside her chest, as he scratched the underside of haxorus jaw. “I promise.” 

The resulting disapproving noises – honorable mentions to aegislash and dragapult, really, who seemed to have disapproval down to a science at that point – made Leon laugh. 

“God, you’re always loud, aren’t you?” 

Leon looked up in surprise, finding Piers leaning over the edge of the stone fence, arms folded over the smooth rock and expression wry. 

“Piers!” Leon called out, brightening up immediately. He stood up, despite more disapproving noises from haxorus, and made his way over. “What are you doing here?” 

“Nice to see you too,” Piers deadpanned, one eyebrow arched judgingly as Leon navigated his way to him. “Is that how you greet people who’ve come visit?” 

“I’m sorry, I-“ Leon raised his hands placatingly, slightly flustered at his own rudeness, but was cut off by the fact Piers laughed. 

“Relax, Princess,” he said, lips twitching into a smirk. “I’m just fucking with you.” 

“Well, that’s mean,” Leon pointed out, though he found himself wanting to smirk back at him regardless. 

“Water’s wet too,” Piers retorted, and then shrugged. “Marnie asked me to tag along. Y’know. Moral support and all that.” 

Leon didn’t, truth be told, know anything about that, but he reckoned this was one of those moments where the best he could do was nod along. 

“So how are you liking it?” Leon said, after a pause, feeling awkward in the silence and slightly unnerved by the slightly disinterested look Piers was giving him. “Here in Postwick, I mean.” 

“It’s alright, I suppose,” Piers said, shrugging, “looks like a freakin’ movie set, your town. Just, not my kind of movie.” He shifted against the fence and dug out a pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his pants. “Provincial, and all. You want?” 

Leon shrugged uncomfortably, caught between the urge to defend his hometown and the bubbling urge to agree. He waved away the cigarette when Piers offered and moved to lean on the fence to the side, so as to not get a faceful of smoke every time Piers exhaled. 

“It’s nice and quiet,” Leon said, somewhat lamely. “Some people like nice and quiet.” 

“Fair enough, I guess,” Piers replied, somewhat unconvinced, “I’m surprised you’re one of those. Never would have peg you for the type, not the way you bombast everywhere you go.” 

“Bombast is not a verb,” Leon muttered, pointedly looking away. 

“Everything’s a verb if you try hard enough,” Piers snorted, blowing out rings of smoke out above their heads. 

“…I almost want to argue that,” Leon admitted, tugging at his hat to make sure it was sitting properly atop his head, “but I’m also a big fan of your music, so I realize I don’t really have a leg to stand on.” 

Piers squinted suspiciously at him. 

“Is that a jab about my height?” 

Leon barked a laugh and then tugged down his hat to hide his face, trying to swallow the unbecoming cackle. 

“No!” He winced and risked a look at the unamused face Piers was making at him. “Maybe retroactively, a little.” 

“Dick,” Piers deadpanned. “You’re not _that_ tall.” 

“I mean, I think you’re biased,” Leon pointed out, one eyebrow arched tauntingly, “you dating Raihan and all.” 

Piers inhaled so sharply he almost swallowed the cigarette whole, and then spat it out with a loud, hurling noise. 

“Piers!” Leon reached out to grab him, when it seemed like Piers was about to fall over the fence in surprise. “Are you alright?” 

“Am I—are you _high_?” Piers demanded, shoving his hair off his face to give Leon a proper scowl. 

“No?” Leon replied, somewhat unsure given the eminently offended look Piers was giving him. 

“I’m not,” Piers snapped, shuffling back to his feet and tossing his hair back in the sort of dramatic fashion that Leon had never been able to replicate, no matter how long his own hair got. “Dating Raihan,” Piers added, looking supremely put out. “That’d be stupid.” 

“Oh,” Leon said, not sure what else to reply, though he found himself fighting the urge to bristle up in Raihan’s defense. 

Piers didn’t have to look so disgusted by the idea, after all. Raihan was a great guy, as far as Leon was concerned: he was kind and funny and passionate and rather good looking, if one went by the screaming commentary on every selfie he’d ever posted. Anyone would be lucky to be dating Raihan, really. 

Not that Leon would know, per se, since he didn’t _want_ to date his best friend – that’d be weird, wouldn’t it? – but Piers didn’t have to make it sound like it would be such a terrible burden to bear. 

“I’m sorry,” Leon said, feeling keenly awkward again and not sure what to do about it. “I thought-“ 

“He’s a friend,” Piers replied shortly, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Barely.” He gave Leon a considering look, and then rolled his eyes with a sigh. “He’s single, Leon. He’s been single for years now.” 

“Oh,” Leon replied, fingers anxiously twitching with the urge to hold something, “I see,” he added, even though he super didn’t. 

Piers was giving him a frankly scary look, like he was pissed enough to be contemplating violence, even though Leon wasn’t sure why he’d feel that way. It’d been an honest mistake, really! Raihan had pictures of Piers in his house. He’d said they were close. And Raihan had never mentioned being close to… well, anyone, before. 

And besides, again, dating Raihan wouldn’t be that terrible. It wouldn’t be at all terrible, in fact! Raihan was amazing and anyone who dated him would feel lucky about it. It was kind of rude of Piers to be so dramatic about how much he didn’t want to date him. 

“Piers,” Gloria called out from the road, approaching with Marnie, holding hands. “We’re going to Wedgehurst,” she said, once she was close enough, soft, pleasant smile on her face. She looked at Leon and waved with her free hand. “Hi, Leon!” 

“All good?” Piers asked, looking at Marnie with an arched eyebrow. 

Marnie shrugged, but said nothing. 

Piers snorted. 

“Have fun then,” he said, waving them off with a vague shooing motion. 

Leon had the distinct feeling he’d just missed something important in the exchange, but reckoned it was none of his business. And hey, the interruption at least saved him the embarrassment of saying something stupid about how annoyed he was getting at Piers, for dissing Raihan. 

“They’re really good friends, aren’t they?” Leon said after a moment, as they watched both girls walk down route 1 towards the town. 

Piers gave him a side look, seemed to consider something for a second, and then snorted very loudly. 

“They’re lesbians, Leon.” He smirked at the surprised, choked noise Leon made in reply, clearly amused by his reaction. “So I guess that’s one way of putting it, I suppose.” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Piers,” Leon said, wrinkling his nose at him, “but you might be a bit of a compulsive ass.” 

“Oh?” Piers tilted his head to the side, “is that how you really feel, Princess?” 

Leon snorted. 

“Pretty strongly right now, yes,” he retorted, one eyebrow arched. “I’m trying to be nice.” 

“I know,” Piers snickered pretty mean-spiritedly, “but only Raihan really thinks that’s cute.” Then, before Leon could properly process the implications of that statement, Piers jumped over the fence rather dramatically, even though the door was just a few feet away from where he was standing. “C’mon, I know you’re still prissy ‘cause obstagoon beat your ass last time. I’m feeling pretty magnanimous today, I suppose I can let you try and get your revenge.” 

“You won fair and square, Piers,” Leon pointed out, in the best lecturing tone he’d developed trying to guide Gloria through the trials of being Champion, “revenge would imply I resent you for it, and I very much do not. However, dethroned Champion or not…” Leon raised a hand, however, and twitched his wrist in a commanding gesture, lips pulling into a smirk as aegislash leaped above his head, switching stances as it landed before him with his blade unfurled and ready to fight. “I’ve never been one to say no to a challenge.” 

“You just gotta _be_ the fucking most, huh,” Piers retorted, eyes gleaming as he threw out a duskball and his obstagoon, predictably, came out. “But then I guess I really don’t have much room to judge…” 

* * *

“So how was your day?” 

Leon looked up from where he’d been polishing aegislash’s shield with his favorite oil and blinked up at his phone, where Raihan’s voice was coming through, nice and soothing and kind, as always. Leon thought about the fight with Piers and the surprising string of stupid things he’d said, over the course of a single conversation, and yet the weird certainty he got, at the end of the battle – victory, three to one, because obstagoon knew shadow claw for some _dumb_ stupid reason and Leon had been off his game until he saw aegislash drop like a sack of bricks, but then haxorus had done short work of obstagoon, malamar and toxtricity – that Piers actually _liked_ him, for all he continued to be rude and mocking and all around kind of a dick about everything. 

“I think I made a new friend today,” Leon replied, and then chuckled when aegislash made a whiny chirr because he’d stopped polishing. “So all in all, I’d say it was good! And you?” 

“Pretty good myself!” Raihan replied, sounding… well, as nice as he always did. “I’ve got new babies.” 

“Oooh, do tell! That’s exciting!” Leon smiled brightly at his phone, and wondered how long until Raihan felt comfortable posting pictures with his new hatchlings on his social media. 

“Two jangmo-os and an axew,” Raihan replied, all but purring with pride. “They’re cranky and bitey and perfectly adorable. I’m going to break the internet when they’re ready for primetime.” 

Leon could hear the smile on his voice, and wondered all of a sudden if it would be weird to ask Raihan to move to video chat, when he realized he missed seeing his friend smile. Raihan’s smiles were always infectious, as far as Leon was concerned. Talking with Raihan had always been a treat, while he’d been Champion, forever stuck in an unforgiving schedule and cornered by the Chairman’s disappointed stare whenever Leon wasn’t immediately on board with whatever new obligation he’d acquired when he wasn’t looking. It felt like a terrible indulgence, how often he called Raihan now, and Raihan was too kind because he never hung up on him – except that one time, when Leon had called at a bad moment because he was an idiot and nearly gotten Raihan hurt because of it, but he was better about that now – and always seemed game to chat: about their days, about the news, about everything, really. Raihan always had something smart to say about pretty much anything Leon brought up, and listening to his voice was always a nice way for Leon to close his days. 

“I don’t think the internet will recover,” Leon said, arms curled around aegislash, cuddling and no longer polishing, as he looked up at the rotom floating just above his head. “But I also don’t think they’ll mind too terribly. Your baby dragon pictures are always amazing. All your pictures are amazing.” 

“Really?” Raihan asked, that teasing tilt to his voice that let Leon know he was feeling playful. “I thought it was my rotom’s doing, no input from me.” 

“Well,” Leon retorted, mock-innocent, “you do provide the subject matter. I can give you credit for that.” 

“This consistent denial of my uncontested photographic talent is rude and uncalled for,” Raihan snorted, and Leon could picture the exact way he was pouting, lips pinched together and pulled to the side, to best show his displeasure. “I find it telling you still haven’t opened a ‘gram account. Are you afraid your follower count will always be inferior to your rival’s, Leon? You ain’t champ in this field, you know?” 

Leon knew that was a joke and he was meant to laugh and joke back; they’d only been ribbing each other like that for years now – years and years of clinging to Raihan’s words, few and far in between, because he was witty and smart and he made Leon want to be better, always, but he was always told he had better, more pressing things to do, than fill up his time with Raihan’s chatter – Leon knew the beats of that song. He knew. He missed it anyway, the way he kept doing, more often than not, now that he was owner of his own schedule and selfishly willing to soak up any and all time Raihan was willing to give. 

“I don’t know if anyone would care,” Leon confessed, fingering the tuffs of hair curled behind his ear, “if I made an account or not. I mean, I never… none of the official champion accounts were really mine, they were handled by the PR people, and I’m not champion anymore. I’m not… I did open one! When I got rotom, I had to set one up, but I’ve never used it. I just. I don’t know if there’s a point to it.” 

“To me, the point is that you can’t pretend something didn’t happen, once it’s out on the internet,” Raihan said, and he sounded so kind, forever patient with Leon’s eternally dumb rambles about things that sounded stupid to him even before he said them, but he still said anyway. “Once you publish something, you gotta live with it, forever!” 

“That’s terrifying,” Leon whispered, well aware of the walls of vicious comments that always followed Raihan’s selfies after one of their matches. 

People always wanted someone to fail, because they always wanted someone to win. That was just what the audience was, by its nature. 

“I mean, it can be,” Raihan admitted, but he laughed it up, and Leon basked in the sound perhaps a bit too much. “But it’s also really comforting. It depends on what you post. If you post about defeat and bad things happening, yeah, the internet will never let you forget.” Raihan paused, and then his voice softened. “But you can also post good things. Post about delicious food you ate, or a nice sunrise, or a cute display on a store, or hell, yourself, when you’re having a good day! Sometimes your hair plays nice and you picked up a cool outfit or the lighting is really good, and you look _nice_. The internet remembers that too, and it doesn’t let you forget it, even when you’re having a bad day. _That’s_ comforting too.” 

“I’ve never thought about it that way,” Leon said, licking his lips. “I’ll give it a shot.” 

“You don’t have to,” Raihan said, almost apologetic, “but if you do, tag me. I’d like to follow you. See what you’d like to be reminded of.” 

“Sure,” Leon replied, some nameless feeling stuck somewhere in the back of his throat. 

And then, because he was an idiot, he spent the rest of the evening after hanging up, combing through his gallery for photos to upload. 

Raihan liked every single one. 

* * *

Hop’s birthday was a village-wide holiday. 

To be fair, Postwick was so small that everyone’s birthday was treated the same way, but Leon had been away from home so long he’d never gotten to participate in any but his own – and his own birthday had always been an event, when he was champion, whether he wanted it to be or not, particularly the years he’d not been allowed to go home to celebrate. He helped with the food – he loved being in the kitchen, really, chatting idly with his mum about spices and recipes and the TV chefs she liked, and then feeling that warm glow of satisfaction watching people eat and enjoy what he’d made – and some of the decorations, and found himself struck by how much older Hop looked when he arrived, wearing glasses and a lab coat. 

“Look at you,” Leon said, drying his hands with a towel as Hop tried to shrug off the compliment. “All grown up and figured out.” 

The hug took Leon by surprise, but he basked in it, regardless. 

Despite his support and his letters and his phone calls and all the myriad of ways he’d always proved himself Leon’s biggest fan over the years, it was only after Gloria inherited the title that Leon became so keenly aware of the distance between him and his brother, and the realization had been heartbreaking. Hop had been born the year Leon made champion, and so all he’d ever known of Leon was about his role as champion. Leon loved his brother, always had. Leon had loved him since the moment he’d learned he existed, watching him grow in the swell of his mother’s belly. Leon always thought kindest of his brother, picking up every single trinket he could find that he thought would make his baby brother smile and sending them home, over and over until it became a weekly errand for Carl: flying back to Postwick and deliver Leon’s best wishes for his brother. 

But they’d never grown close, physically, and Leon realized, working with Gloria – and Hop, because it seemed, that lifetime ago, when Gloria had just been crowned, that wherever she went, Hop would follow – that the distance was painful. Gloria and Hop held hands and hugged and teased each other all the time. They were friends and they were rivals but above all, they were _close_. Leon wanted that closeness with his brother, but whenever he approached, Hop would get nervous and awkward and act like he was meeting a celebrity, instead of family. He’d been devastated by the realization of yet another thing forever sacrificed to the altar of The Champion, but it turned out all that was needed was time. 

And they spent a lot of time together, during Gloria’s days as Champion. They got to eat together and visit places and chat about nothing, and it turned out that Hop melted whenever Leon found trinkets for him and gave them to him in person. 

His relationship with his brother was not, matter of fact, the sort of thing Leon had always envisioned, with only ad campaigns and movies as reference: Hop wasn’t perpetually sweet and small and angelic, and he wasn’t snippy and rebellious and mean. Hop was… _Hop_. He was upbeat and fundamentally hopeful about the future. He liked pranks so long as no one got hurt and he enjoyed eating sweets more than vegetables. And they’d built their own language, bit by bit, as they grew to know each other better, feeling out the boundaries of their relationship and finding the places it felt best. Mostly, they talked about Leon’s old battles – Hop remembered them all, in detail, with the fervor of a true fan, and embarrassingly, often better than Leon himself did – and Hop’s budding research interests. Leon was very happy to hear that Hop had found his way, in his newfound career as Sonia’s assistant. He looked happy and proud of his achievements and despite Leon feeling like they weren’t spending nearly enough time together, since he’d moved back home, Hop was always texting him tiny bits of his research that he found fascinating. It reminded Leon of the way Sonia used to throw research at him, not expecting him to really contribute to her train of thought, but rather just because it helped to have someone willing to listen. So Leon told himself his own boredom was to blame for his feelings – he’d been having… a lot of feelings, since moving back home – and refused to say anything about how his brother chose to spend his time, because he knew better than to be an entitled brat about it. 

“I think it’s going to work out,” Hop said, face buried into Leon’s chest, “being a researcher, _it’s going to work out,_ Lee.” 

“I’m sure it will,” Leon said, and beamed proudly when Hop pulled back, looking up at him. “But even if it doesn’t, you can change your mind and do something else. You can do whatever you want, Hop! All that matters is that you’re happy.” 

There was a bit of wetness on Hop’s eyes, but he was smiling, and that was reassuring. 

“Did I tell you?” He asked, even though Leon knew he couldn’t have, because they hadn’t spoken in a few days, “look what Gloria got me for my birthday.” 

Leon watched him throw the pokeball, and together they stared as the light faded and a wooloo landed on the tiled floor with a happy bleat. It was, however, a _black_ wooloo, and it looked up at Hop and bleated again, louder this time, full of cheerful pride. 

“A shiny wooloo,” Leon said, blinking in surprise, and then laughed when it seemed to puff up its wool in pride at being acknowledged. 

“Gloria said she saw her trying to steal some of Nat’s lunch and figured I’d love her,” Hop explained, bending down to pet the wooloo that looked, on second thought, feisty enough to try and steal food from the dragon of poison and hate most often seen sprawled across the fields surrounding Gloria’s house. “And I do,” Hop added, petting her head, before he looked up at Leon seriously. “Love her. I do.” 

Leon held his stare, and felt it click as Hop’s eyes filled up with tears, his lips trembling to hold the words in. 

“Oh, Hop,” Leon said, folding himself down on his knees to better pull him into his arms. 

Leon couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound plaintive or mean, so he said nothing at all, and instead hugged his brother while he cried. Crying was good, at least, it meant he wasn’t bottling it up. Wooloo sat with them, as Hop sobbed his heartbreak into Leon’s arms, bumping her nose against Hop’s leg, hoping for attention. 

Eventually, though Leon couldn’t hope to tell how long it’d been at all, Hop quieted down and they just sat there, on the kitchen floor, back against the cabinets, holding each other. 

“I’m sorry,” Hop said, rubbing his nose with the back of a hand and carefully not looking at Leon in the eye. “I’m-“ 

“C’mon,” Leon interrupted, pushing himself back to his feet and offering Hop a hand, “I made meringues from all the egg whites that were left from the rice.” When Hop only stared, Leon winked at him. “Just don’t tell mum I gave you sweets before the main course. Deal?” 

Hop rubbed his nose again, trying to hide a sniffle, and nodded. 

“Deal.” 

Leon pulled the plastic box out of the fridge, and motioned Hop to follow him upstairs, away from prying eyes or their mother’s reproach for ruining their appetite. 

“Aww,” Hop said, coming to sit on Leon’s bed and peering into the box, “they look like alcremies.” 

“They really don’t,” Leon said somewhat sheepishly, well aware of the limits of his skill, “but they should taste alright. It’s Nan’s recipe.” 

“Nan _gave_ you her recipe?” Hop asked, surprised, considering their grandmother was wont to declare all her secrets would die with her, whenever someone asked for a recipe. 

Hop’s new wooloo, meanwhile, found her place on the big carpet at the center of the room and plopped down unceremoniously with a little cheerful bleat. 

“…sorta,” Leon admitted, taking a bite out of the little mounds of meringue, “she made them for me, the other day. I was just… paying attention.” 

For a moment, they sank into comfortable silence, chewing at their treats. 

“Gloria is dating Marnie,” Hop said, twisting one of the meringues in his fingers, looking at it with a frown. “I feel… I feel like an ass, because I still want to tell her, even though I know she doesn’t feel that way. It’s stupid and selfish and it’s going to ruin our friendship.” 

Leon tilted his head and thought back of all the times he’d seen Gloria look after Hop, the easy affection and the sincere joy in his company. He remembered, shortly after crowning her Champion, in one of the first official events, that Opal’s protégé, Bede, had tried to approach Hop and Gloria had cut in with a smile too sharp to be anything but a threat. She’d made a joke afterwards, when they were alone and Leon pointed it out, that Fairy types were helpless against Poison, and then refused to go in detail about why she felt the need to remind Bede of the fact. 

Gloria cared enough about Hop to not hold back her punches, whenever they met each other in the field. And they still fought each other, even after all was said and done, because their rivalry was such a fundamental part of their friendship, that Leon sometimes wondered what it was like, before he came along and gave them scorbunny and sobble to carry it out. 

“I don’t think being honest will ruin your friendship,” Leon said with a small shrug. “Sometimes you need to say things, just to be able to get over them. To get some closure. I don’t think she’ll hate you for it, if you tell her.” 

“But what’s the point?” Hop insisted, looking away. “She’s not going to say yes.” 

“No,” Leon agreed, “she’s not. But you’re not going to spend the rest of your life wondering if you should have asked her. And if you need a bit of space, to work through it, she’ll understand.” Leon took a deep breath. “She loves you, Hop. You know she does. Just… not like that.” 

Hop ate his way through most of the sweets in the box after that, chewing in silence, so Leon did him the courtesy of not acknowledging the sniffling at all, and simply sat there with him, in what he hoped came across as support. 

“Thanks, Lee,” Hop said after a moment, smiling faintly. “For… y’know. Everything.” 

“Hey, I’m here for you,” Leon insisted, and then took of his hat and plopped it on Hop’s head, grinning. “Always.” 

“I know,” Hop sighed, “I’ll think about it. Telling her, I mean. I’ll think about it. I just. It’s rough.” 

“Yeah, but we’re tough, right?” Leon smiled, and reached a hand to pat Hop’s shoulder. “Dubwool tough.” 

Hop choked on a laugh and reached back to shove at Leon playfully. 

“Lee!” He whined, tugging on Leon’s hat to hide his face, “we were having a moment!” 

“Yes,” Leon laughed, “and now we’re gonna go downstairs and have some lunch.” 

* * *

In retrospect, it had been supremely stupid of him to storm off into the weald. 

Leaving aside the fact he did genuinely get lost in a straight corridor if left to his own devices, people did legitimately get lost forever in the slumbering weald. That’s why it was off limits and fenced off from the rest of Postwick. Sure, it turned out to be the resting place of the legendary pokemon that defeated the Darkest Day, and coincidentally now in possession of his brother and his successor, but there were also other strong pokemon lurking about, and the mist didn’t help at all with how twisty and thick the woods were. 

The last time Leon had come to the weald, he’d been following after the wayward heirs to the royal family, at the closing of their ridiculous charade to fight against Sonia’s discovery of Galar’s history, just because their egos were hurt. At least, Leon thought somewhat gloomily, he hadn’t had to navigate the route himself, since all he had to do was follow the stubborn duo to reach the monument at the heart of the woods. The time before that, Hop and Gloria had managed to get lost themselves and Leon had been too scared to think straight. All he’d known was that his brother was in danger and the panic had set in so fast he’d rushed into the fog without a care for his own safety. Thankfully, charizard had been there to help, steady and reliable as ever. 

She was there now, too, following him patiently even as he walked deeper and deeper into the fog, nervous energy making his hands twitch and his entire being vibrate with the urge to battle. 

“I’m being stupid,” Leon said, turning around to look at charizard in the eye, “aren’t I?” 

Charizard looked at him with the slight tilt of her face that let him know she was dubious of his commands, but willing to follow them regardless. 

“I don’t know when I started to run away from things,” Leon whispered, and reached out to grab her face in his hands, “I’m sorry.” 

Charizard looked at him in the eye and then very deliberately reached out to bump her nose on his forehead. It made Leon laugh a little, and as he pulled his partner into his arms, he took a deep breath and commanded himself to relax. 

It’d been just a dream, he knew that. But something about it lingered in his mind, almost like a nightmare. He’d gone out on a run to clear his head after waking up with bitter heartbreak stuck to the back of his throat, and he knew he’d taken a wrong turn when he found himself standing before the gates into the weald. He should have turned back, but he hadn’t. It just kept echoing in the back of his mind, not the words but the choking helpless feeling of the dream, even as it slowly melted away and he failed to grasp at the details. He couldn’t remember, now, what had been so upsetting in the first place, only the certainty he’d felt like his chest had caved in, upon waking up. 

That, and the thought of Raihan, somehow tied into it all. 

It hurt, Leon realized, to think of his rival, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He was still upset about Piers’ comments on Raihan and the sheer disgust in his voice at the mere idea of being something… more than friends with him. He’d beaten Piers and made friends with him, Leon thought, but the victory rang a little hollow when it came to defending Raihan. And the thing was, he knew Raihan didn’t need defending. Raihan was Raihan, and it was self-evident that Piers’ snide remarks were entirely baseless. 

But he’d been thinking about it, ever since, and his conversations with Raihan had been slightly strained on his side, because the question – why are you single? – kept wanting to bubble up his throat. It was none of his business, of course, why Raihan didn’t have a partner, considering how easy it would be for him to have one. And the thought of it not being his business felt sort of upsetting too. 

Leon knew, with the sort of cynical, jaded certainty that came after a year and change of running Macro Cosmo and cleaning up after Rose in all senses of the word, that his views on relationships were probably kind of fucked up. All of him was kind of fucked up, it was just part and parcel of being Champion under Rose’s rules. He’d unpacked a lot of it, looking after Gloria and trying to make sure she didn’t get anywhere near as fucked up as he was, but just because he knew he was a goddamn walking disaster didn’t mean he knew how to fix it. 

He’d never allowed himself to think about relationships, was the thing, because he’d never been allowed one. Everyone else could date and hang out and it wasn’t a PR disaster when they did it, but Leon had always known he was strictly off limits to anyone, ever. He’d learned about sex in the negative spaces drawn by all the rules about things he wasn’t allowed to do or have done to him, with the Chairman’s disappointment weighting down every interaction he had that wasn’t strictly coded in his schedule. There’d been a year, when he’d been sixteen, that he’d grown crushes on nearly all his regular staff: Carl for being kind and tolerant and always willing to tell him a good joke, Oleana for being tall and beautiful and always in control, Tina for being chirpy and excited to work with him… hell, he’d been crushing on Rose and the cool, controlled way he handled himself pretty much always, self-assured and confident every step of the way. 

Then he’d made the mistake of acting on one of those crushes, on one of his usual escorts. Leon didn’t even really remember his name, only that he’d thought he was handsome and funny, and that he didn’t feel patronized when he grabbed his hand and got him from his hotel room to the stadium or a restaurant or wherever Rose needed him to be. Leon had been sixteen and dumb and boiling over with so many feelings all the time it felt like his skin was going to peel off because he just couldn’t hold it all in. He’d gotten a kiss, for his efforts, short and sweet and playful, before getting shoved back into his room and told to get ready for the next day. 

The next day his… well, he hadn’t even gotten to be a boyfriend, really. He was gone, though. Rose lectured him about it, about the importance of the brand and his vulnerability to be taken advantage of and how no one really wanted _him_ , only his title and his money and his prestige. That he was trying to protect him, from getting used by people without scruples. That had been the only time Leon had cried, in front of Rose, and the only time Rose had ever touched him: patting his head and promising it would be alright, if only Leon _obeyed_. There had been no more escorts for him, after that, no specific people to stick around his orbit beyond Oleana, who didn’t care about anyone but the Chairman, and Carl, who was so besotted with his wife he was likely to shove the roll of pictures in his wallet to anyone who stood still long enough. 

Leon learned the lesson, though, and learned it well. 

They didn’t want him. No one did. No one _could_. So he closed himself up to that entirely, and focused on his job. He didn’t need relationships. He didn’t need any of the things always shoved in his face in movies and TV and the ads therein. So he stopped watching moves and TV and focusing only on ads that he had to participate in. It was fine! It wasn’t like he was missing something important, like food or water or sleep. People all over the world were single and none of them made a spectacle out of it. Some people, Leon theorized, just weren’t meant to be in relationships and he just happened to be one of them. 

So why was he so upset about it, all of a sudden? 

And he was upset, and it was about it. That much he knew. He was upset about the idea of Raihan being single and Piers dismissing him as a romantic partner. He was upset because Raihan was _wonderful_ in every possible way and Leon still bristled at the idea that anyone would think otherwise. He was upset about Hop and his unrequited feelings, like his advice to his brother, though born of sincere good will, felt like it had been advice he should have been giving himself. 

Because… 

Well. 

“Oh,” Leon said, burying his face into charizard’s neck, “oh, I am an _idiot_.” 

* * *

Leon spent the rest of the week after his sobering realization in the weald quietly hoping the ground would open up and swallow him whole. 

He focused on making himself useful around the house – he continued to help his mum in the kitchen and even went with his dad to the auctions, and he helped his Nan to cleanup her library – and didn’t call Raihan at all, because now that he knew what he was doing, he felt terrible about it. He felt terrible about everything in general, to be fair, but he could focus on immediate things that needed fixing, so he did that. Besides, Raihan never called him, Leon realized with something like panicked trepidation, it was always him that reached out. It was always him that imposed himself on Raihan’s kindness and willing to tolerate him. He was the nuisance, and he couldn’t keep being one, now that he knew it. 

On Thursday, he woke up to a reminder that it was Sonia’s birthday. 

Usually, he sent her flowers. But that was before, when his schedule was a black pit constantly swallowing up every second of his day with commitments and important meetings. Now… now he didn’t really have anything important to do. No one was depending on him for anything, and no one was going to miss him, if he wasn’t there. So Leon kissed his mum’s forehead and went out, determined. He could call Carl and ask him to ferry him about, but it was a gorgeous day, the sun starting to stretch out in the horizon and the sky was open and clear, so Leon called charizard out and rode on her back, right along the morning breeze. 

The flight to Turffield was long but uneventful: it was almost ten by the time Leon landed on route 4, sliding off charizard’s back with a sigh. She didn’t look in the least bit bothered by the effort, stretching with a yawn, arms and wings spread wide before she huffed expectantly at Leon. He smiled back at her and leaned in to press his face against hers affectionately. 

“Let’s go find something nice for Sonia.” 

Finding the flower market was a bit of a challenge, but charizard was always game to fight Leon’s sense of direction and Leon had long learned to trust his partner when it came to that. What Leon hadn’t accounted for was the crowd gathering around him. He wasn’t Champion anymore, of course, and he certainly wasn’t dressed for the part – he hadn’t worn a cape in months now – but people still recognized him. Little kids still reached out to him and asked for autographs and pictures and to pet charizard. Leon found himself falling back into the comfortable PR mode even though he was wearing track pants, a shirt for one of Piers’ concerts and a hat that absolutely didn’t match either. 

It wasn’t until later, as he walked through the market stalls, looking for something good enough for Sonia, that he stumbled on the realization that Rose had been wrong about his audience and how fickle they were. He didn’t know why he was surprised, really, Rose had been wrong about so many things, and Leon had spent so long cleaning up after each and every single one of them, that he really needed to stop expecting Rose to be right at all. 

Leon ended up buying her a pale-yellow orchid in a pot, rather than a bouquet. It reminded him of a yamper’s coat and he knew just how much Sonia loved yamper – enough she’d never evolved her own. The flight home was uneventful, though he was very focused on keeping the flower safe, cradling it against his chest and shielding it from the gale charizard rode along the way. He landed on Wedgehurst, right outside the lab, and after thanking charizard for her hard work, finally let her rest back in her ultraball. 

However, it turned out Sonia was not home. Leon felt slightly stupid about not realizing that was probably going to be the case. He knew Professor Magnolia had left for a conference in Hoenn a few days prior, mostly because Hop had gone with her. He’d confided on Leon that the trip had been a good excuse to finally talk things out with Gloria and clear his head and Leon had hugged him tight and seen him off at the station with a smile. With her grandmother and her assistant gone, why would Sonia spend her birthday alone in the lab? 

On the bright side, he had a phone. 

“Hey, Sonia,” Leon said, once she picked up the call, “happy birthday!” 

“Oh,” Sonia replied, voice slightly off, “thank you, Leon.” 

“Listen, I got you something for your birthday,” Leon said, “I’m at the lab. Do you want me to drop it here or…?” 

“I’m at the lake house,” Sonia said, and Leon realized she sounded upset. “I’ll… it’s okay, I’ll come pick it up tomorrow.” 

“Are you okay?” Leon asked, head tilted slightly. “You sound-“ 

“I’m fine,” Sonia replied, but the sniffle was unmistakable. “I know you’re busy, it’s okay, Leon.” 

“I’m not,” Leon said, a bit more forcefully than he meant, “busy, I mean. Do… do you want me to drop by?” 

Sonia was quiet for a moment, and then she sighed. 

“Yeah, sure,” she said, “I’ll be here.” 

He could have taken charizard out and have her flew him to the lake house, of course, but she’d already flown him all the way to Turffield and back, and she deserved her rest. And besides, route 2 was literally a straight line into the lake house. 

He could deal with a straight line. 

…yeah, he couldn’t. 

He was halfway through the route – he _thought_ he was halfway through the route – when it started raining, so calling out charizard for help was right out. Leon huddled over the pot in his arms, trying to shield it from the pelting of water. It was dark out, by the time he crossed the bridge and reached the lake house, and by then he was soaked through and leaving a puddle where he stood. 

Sonia opened the door when he knocked and took one look at him before she laughed. It wasn’t a mean-spirited laugh, though. More like resigned than anything else. 

“Oh, Leon,” she said, and threw a towel at his head, “I thought you weren’t coming.” 

“I said I would,” Leon muttered, holding the orchid in one arm so he could use his free hand to rub the towel all over his face. “Route 2 is a lot twistier than I remembered.” He caught her looking up at him, dubious expression on her face, so he gave her a small smile and offered the pot. “Here you go. I saw it and thought of yamper.” 

“It’s lovely,” Sonia said, holding the pot and not looking at Leon in the eye. “Thank you.” 

“Happy birthday, Sonia,” Leon insisted, towel thrown over his shoulders. “I’m sorry I’m late.” 

Sonia looked up at him as he tried to pat himself dry with the towel, and then put the orchid down on the little cute table the professor kept by the doorway. Then she reached out and pulled Leon into a very tight hug, despite the fact he was soaked like a drowning skwovet. 

The sniffle was unmistakable. 

Leon took a deep breath and returned the hug just as tightly, because he knew sometimes one just needed that. 

“Tell you what,” he said, pulling back slightly to look at Sonia in the eye, “let me take a shower so I don’t die of pneumonia, and I’ll cook dinner. We haven’t… really hang out in a while, now.” 

Sonia smiled and reached a hand to poke his chest. 

“Famous world champion knows how to cook?” She teased, head tilted to the side, “this, I got to see.” 

“Ex-champion,” Leon pointed out gently, shrugging. “Ex-chairman, too.” 

“What does that make you, then?” Sonia asked, one eyebrow arched almost as a taunt. 

Leon snorted. 

“So far? A decent cook.” 

* * *

“It sucks,” Sonia said, sitting on the kitchen counter and nursing a glass of wine as she watched Leon rummage about to figure out their dinner, “but I know she didn’t stand me up on purpose. I just feel petty.” 

“It’s your birthday,” Leon replied, trying – and failing – to not judge the Professor’s frankly abysmal spice cabinet. “I think you’re allowed to be petty on your birthday. No one likes being alone on a special day.” 

“I’m not alone,” Sonia snorted, and made a toasting motion at him with her glass, “got my gallant ex-rival here, to save me from my pity party.” 

Leon paused his mental grumbling about the lack of ginger anywhere in sight and turned to give Sonia a slightly surprised look. 

“We really aren’t anymore, huh,” he said, head tilted to the side, “rivals, I mean.” 

He knew they hadn’t been, for a while now. He’d been the champion and Sonia had just… gone home and focused on collecting fashion statements at about the same rate Leon had collected victories. She’d worked hard on her research and her book, but she didn’t talk about it as much as she did her love of fashion, which was why Leon had been surprised that she’d chosen to take over after her grandmother. Not because Sonia wasn’t capable – Sonia was lowkey the smartest person Leon knew and he had no problem acknowledging that – but because he’d never really thought of research as her passion. He’d always thought she’d end up being a designer, or something like that, considering how knowledgeable she was about fashion and clothes and branding. 

It went to show what he knew, he supposed. 

“Well, no,” Sonia replied, blinking, “but that’s not news.” 

“I guess not,” Leon sighed, figuring that the onions could do extra work, so he better started chopping them. “I just… didn’t notice, when it happened. One day it just… was that way.” 

“You were busy being champion and I was busy not knowing what to do with my life,” Sonia pointed out, swirling her glass with a shrug. “We figured it out eventually, so it’s fine.” 

“I mean, you did,” Leon snorted, “I don’t really know what I’m gonna do next.” 

“Cook us dinner, hopefully,” Sonia said, and then reached out to nudge Leon’s wine glass closer to him. “Get drunk with me. Y’know, sensible stuff.” 

“Aww, you think I’m sensible,” Leon cooed at her, “it’s your birthday, and here you are, giving me all these new ways to disappoint you.” 

“I’m drunk, Leon,” Sonia pointed out, “I get to say things I don’t mean.” 

“Ouch.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence after that: Leon started frying spices and onions into a pan, eyeballing measurements and making do with what he had at hand, to hopefully throw together something nice. Meanwhile, Sonia drank her way through her glass and watched him work with the same sort of curious look she gave anything she stumbled on that she didn’t immediately understand. 

“I used to be very angry at you about it,” Sonia admitted, watching Leon’s hands rather than his face. “About the rival thing. It was easier being angry at you, than admitting I was angry at myself.” 

“It’s a two-way street, though,” Leon said, giving the pan a good shake, “I wasn’t a very good rival for you, and that’s on me.” 

“Maybe,” Sonia admitted, though she still sounded doubtful, “but I really didn’t care until you started making a fuss in public about what a great rival Raihan was. I didn’t care I wasn’t a good rival to you, either, I was just pissed that you replaced me.” 

“Sonia, you’re my oldest, dearest friend,” Leon said, putting a lid on the pan and finally reaching out for that glass of wine that had been tempting him since the beginning of this conversation, but which he’d been afraid to grab until he was halfway sure dinner was not going to go up in flames, “I could never replace you.” He grinned. “Scars and childhood trauma just don’t work that way.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Sonia snorted into her glass, “I didn’t traumatize you, you big crybaby.” 

“Not for lack of trying, you didn’t,” Leon laughed and dodged when Sonia swung a leg at him half-heartedly. “I _am_ sorry, though, that I made you feel that way. That was shitty of me.” 

“It’s water under the bridge, Leon,” Sonia said, nudging his side with her foot. “Besides, I stopped being angry about it when I realized you weren’t actually dating Raihan.” 

Leon blinked. 

“You thought I was dating Raihan?” 

Sonia rolled her eyes. 

“Leon, half of Galar thinks you’re dating Raihan,” she deadpanned, and then snorted at the choked sound he made in the back of his throat. “The other half doesn’t only because they think you’re already married to the guy.” 

Leon spluttered loudly and then swung back his wine glass in one gulp as Sonia laughed at him. 

“I’m not dating Raihan,” Leon said hoarsely, after a long moment, staring at the distance. 

“I know you’re not,” Sonia agreed, and nudged him again. 

Leon pouted at her. 

“I mean, I _could_ be,” he added, fumbling with the bottle to refill his glass. “You don’t know.” 

“Leon, you called me at three in the morning to let me know the first time he called you _Lee_ ,” Sonia said, clearly unimpressed. “If you were dating Raihan, I’d know.” 

“…yeah, you’d be the first person I’d tell,” Leon admitted, burying his face in his hands. He rubbed his face and then turned back to the pan, which had steamed up the lid and looked… mostly okay. Probably. He took a deep breath. “I’m in love with him, though.” 

Sonia froze, glass halfway to her mouth, and stared at him. 

“Does he know?” She asked, and it was very telling, Leon thought, how unsurprised she was by the revelation, like the truly surprising thing was that Leon himself had realized it. 

Which, to be fair, was probably the case. 

“I don’t think so,” Leon said, offering her a wry smile. “You’re the first person I’ve told.” He shuddered dramatically and pulled out plates from the cabinet above the sink. “I’m going to have to tell him, aren’t I.” 

Sonia smiled. 

“I mean, if you actually want to be dating him, yes, that would be a great first step.” 

“You don’t seem surprised,” Leon said, smiling back as he went about serving their plates. 

“You’ve been in love with him at least a decade now,” she replied, sliding off the counter and following Leon over to the dining table, carrying their glasses and a mostly empty bottle of wine. “I’m glad you finally figured it out.” 

“I haven’t been in love with him for a _decade_ ,” Leon argued, carrying their plates and heat on his face that had nothing to do with the wine he’d just chugged down all at once. 

“Did you miss the bit where you called me at three in the morning to tell me he’d called you Lee?” Sonia asked, eyebrows arched in clear challenge that made Leon’s face feel, if possible, even warmer. “You were squealing like your teenage fans.” 

“I _was_ a teenager, at the time,” Leon muttered defensively. “…which I suppose is the point.” He carefully set the plates on the table and very pointedly did not look at Sonia in the eye. “I’m just… I’m pretty terrible at basically everything, aren’t I?” 

“Oh, Leon, of course not,” Sonia said, patting his arm and nudging him until he looked at her, so she could smile at him. “You’re great at pokemon battles, and fairly decent cook.” She paused. “You’re just… a bit shit at everything else.” 

Despite it all, Leon laughed at that, busying himself with refilling his glass while Sonia dug out a new bottle to replace the one that they’d just finished. 

“I’m sorry I’m being a drama queen on your birthday,” Leon said, watching Sonia take a seat and appraise the plate he’d put before her. “We’re supposed to be celebrating!” 

“You’re being a drama queen on my birthday so I don’t have to be,” Sonia pointed out, scooping out a forkful of food, “I think that makes you a good friend, Leon.” She paused, chewing thoughtfully as Leon leaned in unconsciously, waiting for her reaction. “Scratch that, you’re an excellent cook, just shit at anything that isn’t that or pokemon battles.” 

“Cheers to that, I guess,” Leon laughed, toasting at her. 

* * *

“Charizard still has nightmares, y’know?” 

After dinner – and another bottle of wine – they stumbled their way over to the deck. The rain had stopped by then and the night chill was pleasant against the stifling heat of the wine. They sat on the bench overlooking the lake, watching the stars and reminiscing about old times. 

“Mm?” Sonia looked up at him, blinking repeatedly. 

“About your milotic,” Leon said solemnly, and reached out to refill her glass. 

Sonia snorted in a rather unladylike manner. 

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “It was just the one time!” 

“It was the first time she’d ever been OHKO’d though,” Leon retorted sullenly, “and using surf on a charmeleon should be illegal, anyway.” 

“Once a crybaby, always a crybaby,” Sonia said, nudging at his thigh with her knee. “Besides, you’re the one who challenged me to that battle, if I recall correctly. You wanted to see what she could do, after you helped me evolve her.” 

“ _Surf_ on a _charmeleon_ , Sonia.” 

“Oh, so we’re just gonna pretend you didn’t teach her solar beam just to get back at me for that?” 

“It was a strategic decision to give my team better ground/water coverage,” Leon said, as serious as he could, “I resent the implication it was done out of spite.” 

“Because it was,” Sonia deadpanned, and nudged him again, with her very pointy knees that just somehow always managed to poke him right in the fleshy bits that hurt most. 

“…maybe a little.” He paused and then grinned at her. “The look on your face was pretty priceless, though!” 

Sonia gave him a long look and then pointedly took a long sip of her wine. Leon laughed, warm from the food and the wine and the company. He leaned back on the bench and stared at the million stars in the sky – he was never going to get tired of it, of how clean the sky was here, how many stars he could see. 

“Sonia?” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“Mm.” 

“Would you date me?” He asked, looking down at her with desperate hopefulness. 

Sonia snorted dryly. 

“No.” 

Leon laughed when she wrinkled her nose, reminded, for some reason, of Piers’ dramatics at the idea of dating Raihan. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Leon confessed, because it was the honest truth: who’d want him? He was a living, breathing disaster that couldn’t walk down a corridor without getting lost. 

“I’m a lesbian, Leon,” Sonia deadpanned, one eyebrow arched, “it’s nothing personal.” 

Leon smiled, but didn’t laugh again, only looked down at her with what he supposed was a rather pathetic expression on his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I just… I keep wondering if Raihan would want to date me. And I can’t come up with a single reason why he would.” 

“Oh, Arceus,” Sonia said, rolling her eyes and reaching down to refill her glass, “grant me strength.” 

“I just really, really like him,” Leon whispered, chewing on his bottom lip. “So much it hurts to breathe sometimes.” 

Sonia looked up at him and then reached a hand to caress his face. He almost expected her to flick her fingers on his forehead, the way she’d used to when they were children and he made the mistake of questioning her plans for the evening, which usually resulted in him getting grounded one way or another. Childhood trauma and all that. But instead she tugged him close, and he ended up lying on the bench with his head in her lap, his hat discarded on the floor and her fingers in his hair. Leon was very proud of the fact he didn’t lose his grip on his own wine glass, in that shuffle. 

“I know,” Sonia said, her voice softer, kinder, the way it only got when no one was watching. 

“Did it hurt this bad?” Leon asked, eyes half-lidded and fixed on the edge of the water softly lapping against the shore. “When you realized you liked Nessa?” 

“A little bit, yeah,” Sonia said, twirling her fingers in his hair, “she was so pretty, Leon, I ached all the way to my bones when I looked at her.” She snorted and tugged a bit harder on his hair. “But then, I wasn’t repressing my feelings for ten years, you know? So I built up the nerve and told her, and it was okay! Because I might not be good at pokemon battles or cooking, but I’m good at _other_ stuff.” 

Leon laughed wetly and turned his head, pressing his face into her thighs. 

“Ow.” 

* * *

He didn’t remember what else they talked about, as they slowly finished that last wine bottle, but in the morning, he woke up lying on the bench, alone, with a blanket on his shoulders and the sun drilling itself relentlessly on his face. When he wandered back inside, he found Nessa in the kitchen, putting breakfast together and Sonia nursing her hangover into a cup of coffee. They offered him a place on their table, but he felt awkward interrupting. The mood from the night before was gone entirely, and he felt keenly like a third wheel standing there, so he said his goodbyes and rather than risk more disaster, called out charizard and rode her back home. 

Ten minutes later, he was walking into the house by the kitchen entrance and running into his mum, who took one good look at him and opened her mouth to ask. 

Because he was clearly not done being stupid about things, and he was hungover and tired and his neck and his back were killing him for sleeping in that bench, Leon crossed the distance in three steps and clung to his mother like his life depended on it. 

Crying, he reminded himself, at least meant he wasn’t bottling it up. 

It wasn’t as comforting as he’d have liked. 


	2. holding pattern

Leon was never going to get tired of flying. 

When he was in the air, hundreds of feet up into the sky, the world made sense. He could see what people meant, when they said left or right, how everything sort of fit together in a semblance of order. When he was on the ground, feet heavy and eyeline crippled by the closeness to what he was trying to figure out, everything was awkward and foreign and distorted. But up there? Knees folded in the right spot along charizard’s sides so they avoided her wings and his body pressed forward, arms loose around her neck so he could feel the muscles working and keeping them up? Up there the world was _magical_. 

If Leon could have it his way, Carl would have been out of a job since day one. But it wasn’t proper, for a champion to ferry himself about on the back of his partner, even if said champion and said partner were always deliriously happy to do so. Carl was always nice to Leon, though, sharing sweets from the depths of his pockets and taking the long or the short route, depending on whether Leon needed a little extra time to collect himself. So it was a fair trade, as far as he was concerned, Carl’s company for the exhilarating feeling of wind almost carrying him off. 

“It’ll be alright,” Leon said, pressed flushed against charizard’s back, hearing the echo of her heart against his chest, steady and solid, as the beating of her wings. “We’re going to be alright.” Leon closed his eyes for a moment, and then snorted. “If nothing else, we’ll get to fight him again.” 

Charizard roared at the idea, tilting left and aiming down, wings folded, dropping to gain speed in a way that made Leon’s belly tingle with excitement and which Oleana used to yell at him for, whenever she caught him flying recklessly. They fell and fell, and Leon laughed when the wind tore his hat off his head, because charizard spread her wings again, recovering height and spiraling up so he could snag it back on the way up. There was something about the speed pulling at his hair and the air sinking cold and crisp in his lungs that made his mind clear. Everything was stark and vibrant, and for a moment there, playfully challenging gravity, trusting charizard to always catch him before he hit the ground, _the world made sense_. 

Leon’s laugh caught in his throat when eternatus rose up from the hill it had been lying on, spreading out its translucent, nearly invisible wings and reaching out to catch them. And for a moment there, he was back in Hammerlocke, staring down the terrifying weight of its fury as it was forcefully dragged out of its slumber. Leon had nightmares about that, nightmares of the feeling of its power blasting through him, raging at the impertinence to try and subdue it like any other pokemon. But the look it was giving him wasn’t angry or threatening at all, and Leon marveled at the fact he could tell that much, now, staring at the crystalized eyes that were looking at him expectantly. 

Leon swallowed hard, told himself to stop being silly, and leaned over to press his hand on its face, firmly reminding himself this was not eternatus, destroyer of worlds. This was just Nat, Gloria’s pet purloin, who liked head scritches and wiki berries. 

“Tag,” Leon said, licking his lips, “you’re it.” 

And then charizard dropped again, accelerating as much as she could, to put distance between them. Nat held there a moment, a courtesy countdown, and then roared, the screechy, crystalline sound that would haunt Leon’s nightmares, if he were willing to admit to it, but that almost sounded like a laugh when he thought about it. Then the courtesy ended and Nat dropped after him, ready to ‘tag’ him back. 

“You’ll protect Postwick for me, won’t you?” Leon asked, hours later, when they landed all tuckered out. “When I’m gone?” 

Nat made a loud rumbling noise, wings spread wide, which Leon decided to take for agreement. 

“If you get him worked up enough that he turns into a giant hand again, Leon, I _will_ do you harm.” 

He found Gloria standing by the fence circling the land around her house, expression amused. 

“I think if I pissed him off enough for _that_ ,” Leon pointed out, walking over to her, “there wouldn’t be enough of me left for you to do harm _to_.” 

“Technicalities,” she said, reaching to poke his chest with a little teasing smile, “I’m sure I’d find a way.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Leon laughed, shaking his head, “which is why I’m more than happy to avoid it all together.” 

Gloria smiled. 

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she said, head tilted to the side, “in Hammerlocke.” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“Yeah,” he said, “me too.” 

* * *

The first train left at five in the morning. Leon woke up at three and was ready to leave by four. His parents went to see him off, despite his protests that it was too early, and waved him off from the station as the train sped up and away. Then he was all alone in his car, with only the landscape and his phone to fill out the four hours until they reached Hammerlocke. 

He didn’t, strictly speaking, have to take the train. 

He could have hired Carl to fly him straight to Raihan’s house. He could have flown himself there, on charizard’s back. He could have walked, if he was feeling like indulging his procrastination streak. But he’d chosen the train, somewhat childishly, because for all he’d inaugurated more than a few stations in his tenure as Champion, he’d never really gotten a chance to enjoy a train ride on his own. It seemed like the kind of dumb thing he couldn’t just tell someone about, so he set out to fix it instead. Since the car was empty, he didn’t feel bad for letting his team out and letting them stretch out and enjoy the ride themselves, though it did mean he ended up with a few dreepy stealing bits and pieces of his lunch, while dragapult pointedly didn’t look at him in the eye. 

It was nice. 

Prelude to one of the most terrifying things he’d ever done in his life, sure, but nice. 

At nine ten, his team was back inside their ultraballs, hanging off his belt, and he was standing before the Hammerlocke Gym, staring up at the towers and fortifications of the ancient castle, and trying to commit them to memory. Then he took a deep breath and started walking, trying to make sense of his own memories and the directions on his phone. Rotom was nice about it, at least, used by now to Leon’s abysmal sense of direction and his inability to really place reference points in a map. It had learned to show him the map both ways: from above and from his own perspective, and that helped a lot. 

Still, it was almost eleven by the time he found himself standing in front of Raihan’s house, and unable to procrastinate thinking about what he was going to do anymore. 

He liked Raihan’s house, it reminded him of his parents’ house, in a way. Or the Professor’s lake house. It had personality, and not just because of the dragon decals on the windows. Leon stared up at the door, a nice dark-red wood that looked solid and well centered at the top of three small steps, and then down to the keys that Raihan had given him. They came attached to a plastic goomy keychain, which Leon knew matched the trapinch keychain Raihan used for his own keys. 

And then he felt fundamentally stupid, for knowing that. 

Maybe he should go. Turn around and find a hotel, or catch the train back home. Sure, Raihan had offered to let him stay, no strings attached, but Leon knew _he_ came with strings, always. And his mum made it seem reasonable, moving in with Raihan and figure out his feelings along the way, but the reality of it felt significantly more unreasonable and actually kind of terrifying. He swallowed all the spit suddenly flooding his mouth, and winced at how dry his throat felt, when he did. He took off his hat – you couldn’t walk inside someone’s house with a hat on, he heard his mum’s voice echo between his ears – and took a deep breath. 

All he had to do was walk up three steps and knock the door. 

Just three tiny steps, to see if Raihan was home. He should be, Leon knew, because it was Saturday and Raihan didn’t post pictures of breakfast until around noon, on Saturdays. But that certainty only made him fret more, what if he woke up Raihan on his day off? What if he was a bother? 

What if Raihan had guests? 

What if- 

The door clicked and swung inward, and Raihan was there, slightly hunched forward the way he always was, when he ducked under a door that hadn’t, strictly speaking, been designed for someone his height. He was wearing a loose hoodie in goodra colors and shorts short enough they were completely hidden under the oversized hem of the hoodie. 

“Hi, Rai,” Leon said, in lieu of something stupid, fingers nervously clenched tight on his hat. 

“Hi, Lee,” Raihan replied, blinking in surprise. “What are you doing here?” 

Leon swallowed hard and winced on reflex, feeling his stomach drop to somewhere around his knees. It was like the tingling of a free fall, except there was no charizard to catch him before he hit the ground, this time. 

“I mean, it’s good to see you! Always!” Raihan said, waving his hands placatingly, like he was the one in the wrong, not Leon. “I just… wasn’t expecting to see you.” 

Leon licked his lips, laughed to try and cover it up, and then just… 

Leaped. 

* * *

At five, sharp, Leon woke up in Raihan’s guest room. 

He stared up at the ceiling, counting the bumps in the plaster, drawing constellations. Then he swallowed hard and got out of bed and realized, as he stepped into the corridor, of two key things he’d never really noticed: Raihan snored, and he slept with his bedroom door wide open. Leon stood on the corridor for far longer than he probably should have, staring at the source of the loud snoring, limbs half tangled up in navy blue sheets, before he realized he was being possibly a little bit of a creep, and scurried downstairs. 

What he found was… well, scary. 

In the excitement of the previous day – Raihan helping him settle into the guest room and inviting him out for lunch and dinner and just… talking to him, all the time, excited and happy and wonderful – Leon hadn’t had a chance to really look at his kitchen. His previous visit, he hadn’t really had the time to, either, between meetings and the endless barrage of emails in his inbox that demanded attention under threat of disaster. 

Now he did, and he didn’t know what to do. 

Raihan’s kitchen had lovely cabinets of impeccably polished wood, a very large, very modern fridge, a well-worn microwave, and a hub that made a whiny, reluctant noise when Leon tried to turn it on. The cabinets were mostly empty, save for a collection of mismatched, mostly novelty plates and mugs. There was exactly one carton of milk in the fridge and a half-empty box of cereal – _appletun sweet rainbow stars_ , the box announced proudly, with a cartoonish appletun burying his face into a giant bowl of brightly and very artificially colored stars that the side panel of the box insisted were made with 100% natural oats and about ninety different very not-natural additives to them. 

And that was it. 

Leon had a terrible, sinking feeling, so he woke up his rotom with a gentle poke between its eyes and asked it to show him Raihan’s gallery, filtering out everything that was food. He’d never noticed, of course, because Raihan was proficient and posted roughly three pictures an hour, every day, without fail, and the pattern got lost in the flood of selfies of Raihan’s well-practiced winning smile, but Leon couldn’t find a single picture of Raihan eating at home, going back years, even. 

“Well, shit,” Leon said, hands on his hips as he stared at the vast, yawning emptiness that was Raihan’s kitchen. He chuckled when dragapult floated over and leaned on his head, wispy tail coiling around his waist and then down around his left leg. “We’re gonna have to get creative,” Leon explained, reaching up to scratch the underside of his chin, and then reaching further up to pet the sleepy dreepy snoring away in the holes in his head. “Who wants to go on an adventure and find breakfast?” 

* * *

Raihan woke up around nine. 

Leon knew, because the upstairs bathroom was right atop the kitchen and he could hear the sound of water rushing through the pipes, loud and clear, as Raihan took a shower. By then, Leon had come back from his foraging mission, which despite the two-hour delay because he took a wrong turn and ended up standing at the gate that lead to route 7, he still considered a basic success. He’d found a nice coffee shop that, after a quick cross reference check to Raihan’s gallery to confirm it was one of his favorites, was already open for business. Which was great, because by then he was starving. He bought himself the plainest tea in their menu – it wasn’t _bad_ , really, it just wasn’t homemade, and Leon knew himself unreasonably picky about his tea – and a sandwich that had spicy boldly announced in its name, but which Leon realized meant it was _hot_ , not… textured. It wasn’t bland, really, just not very well seasoned. It was breakfast, though, and he was sure whoever made it had tried their best, and that was good enough. He’d bought Raihan’s usual order from the place, a drink with a very complicated title that he’d just given up and shown the lady behind the counter a picture of, and a large, sugary pastry with tons of nuts and chocolate on it. 

“I thought you were kidding,” Raihan said, as he walked into the kitchen and found Leon writing out a very thorough shopping list, “when you said you were going to feed me.” 

Leon looked up at him and didn’t know what his face looked like, with nervousness suddenly kicking the back of his teeth. 

“I wasn’t,” he said, shrugging, fingers twitching for a hat to hide his face behind, but he didn’t have any because he wasn’t a hooligan and his mother raised him better than to wear a hat inside someone else’s house. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, hey, don’t be!” Raihan smiled brightly, sliding into a chair across Leon, and surveying the food neatly placed in front of him. “It was really nice of you to do it, you just… don’t have to,” he shrugged. “I’ve never really had a roommate before, except maybe Piers every once in a while, but Piers is the kind of asshole who charges a fortune on my credit card for pay-per-view porn that he doesn’t even have the decency to _watch,_ just to piss me off, and he screws with the algorithms of my streaming sites by watching hours of obscure, weird artsy films while purposefully logged into my accounts. So I’m just… new at this whole thing of having a roommate that happens to not be an ass, sorry.” 

Leon swallowed a laugh. 

“He didn’t actually do that,” he said, even though in his experience, yeah, Piers was a bit of an ass quite capable in finding delight in inconveniencing others. 

“He absolutely did,” Raihan said, shaking his head with his eyes closed, the very picture of fond exasperation. Then he opened one eye and leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “Mind, this was after I accidentally signed his hair during a training match, and he was _dedicated_ to sticking his fingers in my eyes for it.” He paused significantly. “He’s very particular about his hair.” 

“So,” Leon teased, watching Raihan delicately tear off a bite-sized bit of his pastry, “what you mean is that you had it coming and you deserved anything he did.” He snickered. “I’m starting to sense a theme, with you and Piers.” 

“Lies and slander,” Raihan said, plopping a bit of pastry into his mouth and licking his fingers as he did. “But you got me sugar to start my morning, so I guess I can forgive you.” 

“Good to know,” Leon said, and very pointedly did not stare like a creep at the way Raihan licked his fingers, because he wasn’t, in fact, a creep. 

No, really, he wasn’t. 

He didn’t _want_ to be, at least. But he kept noticing things, about Raihan, and he kept catching himself staring, over and over again, because he felt dumb that he’d _missed_ this or that, for so long. They’d known each other for ages now, it was ridiculous. But still, he’d never really noticed all the faded scars on Raihan’s left wrist, like some pokemon had gnawed at him, over and over again, and it was maddening because he couldn’t really think of what could have caused that, considering what he knew of Raihan’s team. Or the fact that Raihan had really long legs, for example. Of course he knew Raihan had long legs, he was taller than anyone Leon had ever met. But he’d never really… noticed them, the shape of them or the rather graceful way Raihan moved, never sluggish or awkward, for all he navigated a world designed for people a solid foot shorter than he was. Every movement was confident and precise, and maybe a little bit mesmerizing, like Leon could spend all day just watching Raihan go about his business and being just… distracting. 

“So… any plans for today?” Raihan asked, holding his chin in one hand and stirring his neon-colored drink, which Leon had been told had a not-insignificant percentage of coffee in it, along the two metric tons of sugar. 

“…yes,” Leon replied, and stopped imagining Raihan licking whipped cream off his fingers because he wasn’t, as previously established, a massive creep. “Kinda. I wanted to ask you, if I could… commandeer your kitchen, so to speak.” 

“I mean, sure,” Raihan laughed, “but there’s nothing in my kitchen.” 

Leon let out a short, half-way panicked laugh. 

“I noticed, yes,” he said, “that’s why I asked, before I went on stocking stuff.” 

“Knock yourself out, mate,” Raihan said, shrugging. “All I use my kitchen for is reheating leftovers, and indulge the addiction, that I’ll deny under torture, mind you, to children’s breakfast cereal.” He paused, and tilted his head slightly to the side. “I didn’t know you cooked.” 

“I’ve been learning,” Leon replied, brightening up considerably. “Since I… retired. Mum gave me a few pointers, and I’m not terrible at it. And hey, it’s something to do, right?” 

Raihan smiled, eyes half-lidded and expression kind, and Leon had a quiet moment where he realized he could spend the rest of his life basking in that smile and want for nothing else, ever again. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Lee.” 

God, he was fucked. 

* * *

In the afternoon, after Raihan offered to go with him to pick up supplies – and maybe show him around town, for all the good that’d do, honestly – Leon was busy putting his newly bought kitchen supplies in place and reorganizing the kitchen to his liking. It was surprisingly cathartic. It felt… auspicious, even. He still didn’t have any idea what he was going to do, but at least Raihan was willing to give him a place to figure it out, and that was enough, really. 

“Hey, Lee,” Raihan called, poking his head through the doorway from the living room, “are you busy? Wanna see something cool?” 

Leon, who was terribly occupied cataloging the three dozen little jars of spices he’d bought – he didn’t need ALL of them, but they were all there, was he just supposed to not buy one of each? – blinked and smiled brightly. 

“Sure,” he said, stepping away from the cabinet he’d been filling up, “what’s up?” 

“I think my babies are ready to eat their first meal,” Raihan explained, eyes bright. 

Leon blinked again. 

“ _First_ meal?” He stared. 

Those had hatched… almost two weeks ago, if he remembered correctly. 

“They needed to molt first,” Raihan explained, motioning for Leon to follow him. “When they break through the egg the first time, you have to put them in a molting box and leave them be for a couple weeks. They shed their egg skin, and eat it, if you’re lucky, along with their eggshell. Otherwise you just gotta wait and let their new skin harden and dry before you can really touch them and start coaxing them to eat.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Leon admitted, watching – admiring – the way Raihan crossed the living room and pulled a black sheet off a small stack of wooden crates in the corner of the room, that Leon had seen earlier in the day and been entirely too polite to ask about. “Do all species work the same way?” 

“Pretty much everything in the dragon egg group has to molt right out of the egg,” Raihan explained, moving the crates with utmost care, gently placing them in the center of the living room. “I mean, goomies don’t have scales, so they don’t molt. And dreepies are…” 

“Ghosts, yeah,” Leon finished for him, trying his best to keep a prudent distance and not get in the way. “That’s fascinating.” 

“I mean, yeah, woo, mother nature,” Raihan said, rather unenthusiastically, moving over to grab a small bag of tools and a plastic box with a bunch of notes written on it with permanent marker. “But it’s also the reason why most of Galar’s dragon population is in the shitter, you know? You compound the fact dragons are just. Straight up shit at brooding, yeah? And the fact that for two or three weeks after hatching, they’re basically mush with eyes that a strong wind could do in… and yeah.” Raihan shook his head and grabbed a small hammer and a crowbar, and set out to pry open the top of one of the crates with the ease of practice. “I have a theory that Galar’s freak weather patterns are to blame, though. It’s the only thing I can think of, considering other regions are basically swimming in dragons, compared to us. Like, smash a rock, and surprise! You found a salamance.” 

Leon blinked. 

“What’s a salamance?” 

Raihan stopped and stared. 

“You’re kidding,” he said, squinting. 

Leon shrugged. 

“Seriously?” Raihan insisted, head tilted to the side. “They’re like a dime a dozen outside Galar.” 

“I…” Leon licked his lips. “I’ve never actually… gone out. Of Galar, I mean.” 

Raihan studied him for a moment, and Leon had to resist the urge to squirm where he stood. 

“If you’re free tomorrow, you should drop by the Gym sometime,” Raihan said instead, “there’s someone… a couple someones you’ll enjoy meeting, I think.” 

“Sure,” Leon replied, head tilted to the side, “I will try to squeeze you in between lunch and my do-nothing session in the afternoon. Might be precarious, but. You know. Anything for my rival.” 

Raihan made a point to roll his eyes, and went back to opening the crate. 

“Hello!” He cooed, his voice going soft and gentle, as he knelt by the opening and reached in to grab the smallest jangmo-o Leon had ever seen in his life. “ready to come out now?” The little pokemon squirmed in his grasp and made a low hissing noise, biting out at air threateningly. “Oh yes, yes, you’re so fierce! Look at you, sassy boy!” Raihan gently placed the little thing on the carpet, where it proceeded to make a very enthusiastic scale display, growling and shaking its tail so hard it seemed to be having trouble standing upright. “You’re gonna be a handful, I can tell.” 

“Oh no,” Leon whispered, watching the baby contend with the relative plush of the carpet, nosing around and giving a few tentative steps. “Fuck, he’s so tiny, Rai.” 

“I know,” Raihan sighed contently, “watch your toes, Lee. He’s probably not strong enough to do you lasting harm yet, but it’s still gonna hurt a lot if he gets his little jaws on you.” 

“I don’t think I could care,” Leon said honestly, squatting down to get a better look of the little guy, who immediately repeated the scale display at him, when he noticed him. “Aaaah!” 

“Trust me,” Raihan laughed, pulling his left sleeve up to really let Leon get a good look at the crisscrossing scars all over his forearm and his wrist. “Eventually the cute wears off enough you start to care.” He was smiling, though, bright and proud and warm, like a million suns all put together, as the baby started making calling noises at the next closed crate. “Alright, alright, let’s get your siblings out, yes.” 

The other jangmo-o was equally as tiny but a lot less aggressive: it flopped in Raihan’s hands and whined, rubbing its face against his fingers and making a low grumbling noise, like it’d much rather go back to sleep. Raihan put it on the carpet and it immediately curled up, tucking its face under its tail, ignoring the loud scale displays of its clutchmate, who was clearly sporting for a fight. Leon made a low sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between pain and delight, and he didn’t know what to do about it. 

“That brings back memories,” Leon said, watching Raihan pull a very alert, very enthusiastic and also very tiny axew out of the last crate. 

“Kinda, yeah, this little girl is jolly, though,” Raihan pointed out, scratching the base of axew’s horn, much to her delight. “Yours was adamant.” He paused significantly. “Which, let me tell you, was very fun, while rearing her up.” 

Leon laughed. 

“Oh, I can _see_ that,” he said, eyes dancing as he watched the baby axew tackle the first jangmo-o and causing them both to topple off and roll around the carpet. “She’s still pretty stubborn, to this day.” 

“Yeah, hardest part of rearing is teaching them how to mellow out their nature out a bit, so they’re actually trainable,” Raihan explained, carefully lowering himself to sit on the carpet, and then reaching out to grab the sleepier of the jangmo-os. “This isn’t so bad, though. Jangma-os are generally aggressive just… because the species is aggressive, in general. And axews are more mischievous pranksters than anything else. No, what really made me reconsider every single life choice I’d made up to that point, and basically hate each and every single one of them, for like seven months, was my first deino clutch.” He settled the baby on his lap, perched on a thigh, and then grabbed a little can from his bag of supplies, which he then opened, and started offering a spoonful of its contents to the jangmo-o that still looked more willing to sleep than be fed. “There were three of them, and they were impish, naughty and rash, respectively. And I just… I stopped wearing pants. There was no point, they all ended up bitten into shorts anyway.” 

Leon grinned at the mental image, and then offered the other jangmo-o his hand, knuckles first. Predictably, it bit on them, relatively hard, considering its size, but still not hard enough to break skin. It bit and bit and then relaxed enough a slow, thoughtful chewing motion, almost reflexive. By then, it stopped rattling its scales, and its tail sort of flopped down. 

“Haxorus still nibbles on my knuckles when she’s antsy,” Leon explained, when he realized Raihan was staring at him. “I figured, dragons are just bitey, you just gotta figure out how to deal with it.” 

“You keep that up, Lee, and you’re gonna force my hand,” Raihan said, tone mock serious, as he nudged the supply bag in Leon’s general direction, clearly inviting him to try and feed the little thing now slurping loudly on his knuckles. “I’m gonna have to hire you, and then we’ll be living together and working together, and who knows where we’d end?” 

In heaven, Leon did not say, because he was not a creep, even though the prospect of spending every waking moment with Raihan didn’t sound at all distressing. 

* * *

On his second morning waking up under Raihan’s roof, Leon woke up at five sharp, still caught in a very… vivid dream. 

“Dragons are bitey,” he whispered, staring at the ceiling, and then shuddered as he felt the dream-ghost touch of teeth along his throat and fingers digging into his back. 

He shuddered again when he heard the faint echo of Raihan’s snoring, across the hall. Who still slept with his door flung wide open, because Hammerlocke summers ran hot, and this was his house and he could sleep naked on the couch if he felt like it, but mercifully didn’t. Leon squirmed in place, keenly aware of the sweat on his skin, the heat on his face and the fact he was a goddamn idiot. 

The walk to the bathroom at the end of the corridor was a very slow and tortuous one. 

Sure, Raihan hadn’t woken up the day before, when Leon had basically barged downstairs in search for breakfast, but if he had, Leon wouldn’t have died on the spot. Today, he would. 

God, he was an idiot. 

“Please stop,” Leon begged, after he’d made his way downstairs and released his team for the day, purposefully not looking over at where charizard and haxorus were staring at him with that particular brand of judgment that let him know his pokemon were exasperated at him. “I just… it’s fine.” He risked a quick look, as he waited for his tea to be ready. “Honest.” 

Charizard and haxorus shared a look – a very judge-y look, at that – and then pointedly walked out of the kitchen and into the yard without looking at him. Leon watched charizard lay down on the soft grass, wings spread wide to maximize exposure as the early morning sun started to shine down on her, while haxorus went to curl up against the furthest wall, resting in the shade. Leon watched flygon approach charizard curiously, wings buzzing slightly, and snorted a tad unkindly when charizard startled flygon with a teasing stretch of a wing. 

Raihan insisted he could let his team out and roam around the house as they pleased, but Leon knew for a fact his team was antsy about sleeping outside their pokeballs and they were unsure about being indoors for too long. They enjoyed the yard, though, and he knew they’d spent a few hours the day prior, socializing a bit with Raihan’s team, who roamed around the first floor of the house with absolute confidence. He continued to watch them interact outside, slowly sipping his tea, and marveled at the ease at which they seemed to get past the initial wariness. He supposed it was natural, though. They had known each other as long as he and Raihan had, though given the circumstances, they’d never really gotten a chance to properly interact with each other outside of battle. It was nice to see no real hard feelings between their teams, despite the decade and change of history between them. 

A whole decade. 

Leon swallowed hard. 

He should find a gym, honestly. A people’s gym, not a pokemon one. He missed his morning exercise, to burn off stupid nervous energy that only went to very stupid, nervous thoughts. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, anyway, and restlessness was a recipe for disaster, he knew. Though he’d promised to go to the Gym – the pokemon one, not the people’s one – with Raihan at some point that day, because apparently there was something that he wanted to show him. 

Leon looked over at the corner of the living room that had been corralled to contain the baby dragons currently under Raihan’s care, and smiled. Goodra was curled up with them as they slept on, undisturbed. He supposed it was going to be an eventful day, but the best he could do was take it slow, one bit at the time. 

On the bright side, at least today he didn’t have to freak out about breakfast, he had supplies and a vague idea of what he wanted to eat. 

So hey… baby steps. 

* * *

Hammerlocke Stadium had once been Hammerlocke Keep, and while a great part of it had been converted and rehabilitated into modern structures, there was still a good deal of the Keep that remained… well, Keep-like. 

The Stadium itself was massive, sure, and the power plant in the basement was nothing to sneeze at, but there was still an entire, massive courtyard behind it, stretching out behind the spire where Leon had battled and ultimately been defeated by the so-called Darkest Day. The Gym staff area was located across that courtyard, behind which was a small patio with a tall wall that also happened to be the backwall to Raihan’s house. Leon had never been into the Gym’s staff area, much less the courtyard, considering all areas leased to Macro Cosmo ended at the corridor just before the courtyard, so he didn’t know what to expect. The fact there were four doors one right after the other in the space of maybe ten feet worth of corridor was a bit surprising, but since Raihan didn’t comment on it, neither did he. 

“Here we are,” Raihan said, opening the last door and stepping aside so Leon could walk in first, “Hammerlocke Gym’s Rescue and Breeding Facility for Endangered Dragon Species.” He gave Leon a teasing smirk. “Now you get to see why my payroll and my budget is ten times larger than everyone else’s.” 

The courtyard was pretty massive, decorated like a gradient of vegetation, trees and a respectably large pond on one end, and slowly thinning out until the opposite end was sandy rocks. It was smaller than the Stadium – the Stadium had been built in what had originally been the Keep’s primary courtyard, Leon remembered absently – but not by much. 

“Try not to flinch,” Raihan said, raising an arm in front of Leon, motioning him to stay in place, as a pretty massive kommo-o rushed straight at them, stopping barely less than a feet away. It roared threateningly, scales clanging loudly in a significantly more impressive display than the one the baby jangmo-o had offered, the day before. “You’re very, very fierce, baby, we know,” Raihan cooed, and then fearlessly reached out to pet its face. “Give them a month to get a bit bigger, and I’ll bring them to visit.” 

Leon realized this was the mother of the babies they’d left in a corral back at the house, under goodra’s good-natured supervision. He swallowed hard when she turned her head and made a snapping bite at Raihan’s fingers, claws raised warningly, but Raihan continued to not be fazed by the display. The kommo-o pulled away eventually and leaned in to puff air threateningly at Leon’s face, almost hard enough to blow the hat off his head, and then turned away, steps thunderous before it picked up a jogging pace across the courtyard and went to slam bodily against a turtonator’s shell. Leon had the distinct feeling he’d not survive unscathed, if she decided to do that to him. Two very scarred haxorus joined the squabble, making a loud racket that Raihan was pointedly ignoring. 

“And that’s why we don’t let outsiders come nosing in here,” Raihan laughed, hands stuck in the pockets of his hoodie. “Try to keep your hands to yourself and don’t flinch as much as possible,” he went on, motioning for Leon to follow. “They’re… not wild, strictly speaking, but they’re definitely feral. And yes, they bite. All of them, even the cute ones.” 

Leon smiled. 

“You think all of them are cute,” he teased, amused and delighted by the splash of color that bloomed over Raihan’s nose. 

“I mean, yeah, they’re my babies,” Raihan said proudly, scratching his cheek, “but I’m also aware my babies are assholes. All of them.” He turned halfway and pointed a finger straight at a garchomp that was suddenly there, claws raised high and fangs bared. “Do not.” 

Leon had never seen a garchomp in the flesh. He’d read the previous champion of the Sinnoh region used one as a signature pokemon, but he’d never gotten a chance to see more of it than a stray photograph tucked somewhere in a league brochure. Coincidentally, he’d reached out to Raihan, that year, inquiring about possible dragon additions to his team. But he knew well the regulations in place, so he had known that he could not get one. It was a beautiful creature, sturdy and powerful, standing a couple inches taller than Leon himself, and it growled threateningly at Raihan, snapping its jaws almost playfully. 

“Hey,” Raihan said, standing up straight when garchomp turned to look at Leon, golden eyes sharp. “Careful, there.” 

“Hi,” Leon said, because it was only polite, smiling unfazed at its calculating stare. “You’re very pretty.” The growling stopped abruptly, almost like the garchomp choked on it in surprise. Leon resisted the urge to laugh when it narrowed its eyes suspiciously at him. “You are, doesn’t Raihan tell you often? He should.” 

“Oi,” Leon heard Raihan protest, but he knew better than to take his eyes off the pokemon in front of him. 

After a moment, the garchomp closed the distance, tilting its head in such a way that it was baring its neck. Leon had seen haxorus do that same gesture countless of times, usually accompanied by a needy whine because she wanted attention. So he took a deep breath, and very gently, raised a hand to rub the underside of its jaw. Its skin was rough and sharp, so he could only pet one way, lest he risked shredding his fingers on the spot, but he was rewarded for his efforts by the low, content humming that echoed out of the garchomp, and the fact it slowly allowed its eyes to close. 

“Seriously,” Raihan said, incredulous, and instinctively dodged a swat from the garchomp’s tail. “Fuck you, Hubris.” 

“Hubris?” Leon asked, one eyebrow arched as he continued his petting. And then he realized that was the garchomp’s name, which was surprising because Raihan, much like him, rarely nicknamed his pokemon. “Why would you name a garchomp _Hubris_?” 

“Because the fucker will always bite you in the end,” Raihan deadpanned with a straight face, looking utterly unamused, which intensified when the garchomp made a raspy noise in its throat that Leon realized was a _laugh_. “And she was a gible when Delilah named her. She thought it was funny.” 

“It is,” Leon whispered, biting his lip to hold back a rather unkind laugh, “a little bit funny.” 

“I can’t believe she likes you,” Raihan muttered, “she doesn’t like anyone.” 

“Oh, surely she likes _you_ ,” Leon said, and then poked at Hubris’ chin. “Don’t you? You let him keep his hands, didn’t you? Yes, you did, you good girl, you!” 

Her tail gave a tentative wiggle at that, as Leon found the precise spot to make her body lose all tension. 

Yep, just like haxorus. 

Over the course of the next two hours, Raihan introduced him to the rest of his breeding cluster, which was really just the collection of rescued dragons that, for various reasons, could not be released to the wild or given to a trainer. Leon petted each and every single one of them, even after they made threatening displays and feinted bites. All of Galar’s native dragons were present and accounted for, both as fully evolved third stages, and a few in between younger ones, that Raihan explained he still hadn’t found the right trainer for. The ones he was not looking to rehome and for whom Hammerlocke Gym was going to be their forever home, all had… not great stories of how they’d ended there. Some of the dragons predated Raihan as Gym Leader, some he’d brought in himself. Leon listened to Raihan talk and quietly basked in how much affection he had for each and every single one of them, no matter how aggressive they seemed or how scary they tried to look. Even with Hubris, for all Raihan whined and made a production of how unamused he was… his presence remained serene and soothing, and Leon could just _see_ how they reacted to him. 

He'd always thought Raihan was truly in his element in the field, letting himself get a bit feral as he commanded his pokemon to bring down a storm to blow away anyone who stood in his way. Leon was certainly fond of facing Raihan and his sandstorms, to measure himself against the fierceness of his dragons. But watching Raihan stand there and calmly stare down threat display after threat display without so much as a single flinch? Leon thought it was a completely different element that he clearly dominated with the same mastery he threw his way around in a battle. 

Leon wondered, if he stretched as tall he could and reached out to press a kiss on Raihan’s mouth, if he’d take it in stride as well as a kommo-o’s clanging scales, and then he told himself it was hardly the time to let his mind wander in that direction. 

“Oh, so you’re joining us today,” Raihan called, when a rather long, serpentine pokemon emerged from the pond, shaking off water from the wing-like fins around its head. “Fancy that!” 

He laughed when the dragon twisted about and splashed at them, getting them thoroughly wet. Hubris took a strategic retreat in the face of that, much to Leon’s amusement. Though he didn’t ignore the fact that had been a rather miniature version of a surf, all things considered. Like everything else in the courtyard, the threat carried sufficient weight on its own, but Leon didn’t let that stop him. 

“That’s not native,” he said, approaching cautiously. 

“No, he’s not,” Raihan sighed, reaching a hand to pet it rather confidently. “He’s Lance’s. Sorta. Lance entrusted him to the Gym as a commemoration gift, once he finished his training here.” He paused, turning to face Leon just so he could see him rolling his eyes with great flourish. “Don’t ask me why Delilah _let_ him, though, considering we can’t really use him in official League matches. So… he’s basically a glorified mascot.” 

“He’s beautiful, though,” Leon pointed out, and then smiled at Raihan, as the dragonair plopped his head on his with a chirpy noise. “And he’s happy here.” 

“He better be!” Raihan laughed, allowing him to coil itself around him, clearly not even bothered by the extra weight, “considering how spoiled he is.” The dragonair let out another call, louder this time, and the orb under its chin started to glow. “Hey, hey, none of that,” Raihan cooed, reach up to pet its face. “Weather’s perfect just the way it is, today.” 

The coils tightened around Raihan, just barely enough to seem like a hug, though Leon didn’t doubt for a moment that could do some serious harm, if the dragonair felt like it. Instead, it thrilled one last time, and slithered away, back into the depths of the pond, where it disappeared entirely. As it did so, Leon was struck again by the observation that Raihan’s legs were _really_ long. And strong. But mostly long. The fact Leon had never seen him wearing anything longer than his uniform shorts meant he should have noticed this earlier and just… moved past it. But somehow, he hadn’t, so he was still. Stuck. Somewhat. 

They were just. 

_Long_ . 

Leon told himself to stop being a weirdo about it and instead followed Raihan to the last bit of his tour, pretending really hard his face did not feel hot in the slightest and hoping Raihan couldn’t see it under the rim of his hat. 

“Anyway, we don’t have a salamance here in the Gym,” Raihan said, guiding Leon to the furthest corner of the courtyard, where something, or rather, someone, had dug out a decent-sized den, to hide in the shade, “but we will! …one day. Eventually.” Raihan laughed, folding himself into a squat, arms resting on his knees. “Maybe.” 

Leon squinted at what appeared to be a very big, very sturdy-looking bone-like ball with a squinty face peering at him under the rim of the thick shell. Then it swung back on its hindlegs and rolled forward, not unlike a wooloo, with a temperamental growl and Leon fell in love. 

“It’s so _round_ ,” he blurted out in an awed whisper, physically resisting the urge to reach out and hug the thing. 

Raihan grinned. 

“Heh, yes,” he said, clearly amused by Leon’s reaction. “He’s a shelgon, which are, indeed, very round.” 

Leon felt his face warm up again so he pulled at his hat to hide it. 

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he muttered in embarrassment, “he’s very cute.” 

The shelgon made a noise of surprise and then flopped forward, bashing its face into the ground, tiny legs wiggling in the air. 

“He’s also very shy,” Raihan added, laughter clear in his voice. “He’s been a shelgon for a really long time, since his… previous trainer,” he added, clearly aiming to be diplomatic, though Leon caught the glint of annoyance in Raihan’s eye as he said it, “wouldn’t _let_ him evolve. Folk at the Pokemon Center said there was nothing wrong with him, when we brought him in about… two years ago? I think he’s just waiting for the right time.” 

Leon offered shelgon what he hoped was an encouraging smile. 

“The best things in life are the ones that make us wait for them, right?” He said, and then offered a thumbs up when the shelgon’s eyes filled up with tears. 

He was not expecting the tackle though. 

“Lee!” Raihan sounded scared as shelgon collided solidly with Leon’s chest, crying out loudly. 

Leon understood why, despite his size, the little guy was pretty solid and he knocked the air out of his lungs in one go. 

“I’m good,” Leon wheezed, arms wrapped around the shelgon whining loudly at him. “All good. Sometimes you just need a hug, right?” 

He was going to have bruises from that, he knew, but found he didn’t really care too much, considering the look Raihan was giving them, full of that soft kindness that Leon desperately wished would one day be aimed at him, all on his own. 

Maybe. 

* * *

Leon wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up roped into battles with Raihan’s Gym Trainers, but he gave it his all, regardless. 

He won, obviously, but they were good battles. And he knew he won mostly because his team was significantly stronger and more experienced than theirs, not because he’d miraculously become any better at doubles. His team just wasn’t really well trained in that battle style, though they were comfortable enough with each other that they didn’t exactly trip over each other in the field. He wondered if, now that he had all the time in the world, he could finally give it a go to really learn doubles properly. Since they weren’t an officially endorsed format by the League – Raihan had fought to get his challenge accepted, and he’d only succeeded because there was nothing in the rules that explicitly forbid them – Leon had never really gotten a chance to get very deep into them. When he’d gone on his Gym Challenge, Raihan’s predecessor was in charge, and the Gym Challenge was a scavenger hunt around the stadium. 

He wondered absently why Raihan had chosen to focus so hard on doubles, and thus made relative competence in the format a requirement to participate in the Championship Cup, since his badge was the last requirement to gain entrance to the Wyndon battle circuit. 

Maybe he’d get a chance to ask him, later. 

“Stop bullying my kids, Lee,” Raihan said, after the matches were done, walking into the waiting room where Leon was stretching after the relative warmup. 

“Technically,” Leon began and then took in a deep breath when Raihan leaned in. 

“Stop _bullying_ my kids, Lee,” Raihan repeated, only this time his face was dangerously close to Leon’s and Leon was having trouble breathing, for some reason. Still, he was willing to concede Raihan’s point that maybe throwing haxorus and dragapult out at the same time was a little bit overkill. “If you fight them, you fight them two on one, and you don’t sic charizard on them.” He paused, frowning. “Or aegislash.” 

“I’m sorry,” Leon muttered, reflexively reaching a hand to tug his hat down and hide his face. 

“Hey, I’m not mad,” Raihan replied, straightening up with a shrug. “But they’re squishy and still figuring themselves out, so they’re not really used to getting steamrolled like that.” He sighed. “I know you’re used to fighting Gym Leaders and pretenders to the throne, but you gotta learn to dial it back a little bit, when you’re dealing with people who’re not on that level yet. I know that’s more of a Gym Leader thing than a Champion thing, but not everyone takes it as encouragement, when they get so soundly beaten.” Raihan licked his lips, and his voice softened slightly. “Some people think the gap is just too big and they can’t visualize themselves ever crossing it, so they give up.” 

Leon stared at him, horrified. 

“Oh, god, I’m sorry, Rai,” he whispered, “I didn’t-“ 

“It’s okay,” Raihan said, sticking his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie and slouching forward a little. “They’re okay, Lee. I mean, they’re squishy, but they’re _my_ kids, so they’re a lot sturdier than most. All it took to get them to stop sulking was to promise them free lunch, so there’s that. But, like, going forward, _don’t bully my kids_.” 

“I won’t,” Leon said, licking his lips. “I didn’t… thank you for letting me know,” he sighed, “you’re right, I’ve never been expected to pull any punches and I didn’t really think about how they might feel, in that situation.” 

Raihan shrugged, again, and then grinned, leaning into Leon’s personal space and making his lungs trip on a breath. 

“Given that you’re paying for that lunch,” Raihan pointed out, taunting, “I think we’re even.” 

Leon laughed. 

“Fair,” he said, shaking his head and relaxing somewhat, “and… thanks, really. For calling me out.” 

“It’s what rivals do, right? Make you better,” he said, and threw an arm around Leon’s shoulders, tugging him towards the door. “C’mon, be on your best behavior, and I’ll give you a proper rematch for dessert.” 

Leon looked up at him, pressed up close against his side, their steps syncing up easily, and bit his tongue before he offered Raihan an alternative. 

* * *

They did battle, after lunch. 

Three on three, singles, dynamaxing allowed. 

As charizard and duraludon clashed above their heads in the last bout, claws entwined as they roared in each other’s face, Leon felt drunk in that unique adrenaline rush that only battling Raihan could provide. His knees felt weak and wobbly where he stood, as if he was just a second away from floating away, carried by the euphoria of having Raihan look at him like nothing else mattered, like the rest of the world had ceased to exist beyond the edges of the sandstorm screaming all around them. Leon wanted Raihan to look at him like that, always. 

Forever. 

Leon clenched his fists, mouth twisted into a smiling snarl to match Raihan’s. 

“Charizard!” He called out, feeling the gale heating up, hot air tangling up his hair. “G-Max Wildfire!” 

Leon caught Raihan’s expression as the hit connected, blasting duraludon back until it exploded and collapsed back into its regular size. He recalled him before he hit the ground, but he wasn’t even looking when he did, cyan eyes fixed on Leon and manic grin plastered on his face. 

And Leon realized, almost for the first time, that he couldn’t recall a time when Raihan had sulked at him, after a battle. He looked at him with that same glint in his eye, feral like the dragons under his care, and high on the same delirious joy Leon felt, whenever they let loose and gave it their all. 

When they shook hands, at the end of the match, Leon wanted nothing more than to pull him close and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“Tell me you living here means we get to do this often,” Raihan said, once he let go of Leon’s hand, folding his own into the pockets of his hoodie. “Like… weekly-often.” 

“I could battle you every single day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it,” Leon said, words bypassing his brain entirely, because they were true. 

“Lee, don’t tempt me,” Raihan laughed, still breathing hard, “I do have to do my job and run this Gym.” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“I’m just saying, I’m ready whenever you are,” he said, trying to regain some of his composure. He offered a teasing smile. “Weekly works great for me.” 

* * *

After the couple of weeks living with Raihan, Leon had something of a schedule. 

He still woke up at five, and he still showered with cold water. He made tea and let loose his team for the day, before he set out to figure out breakfast. Raihan liked sugar and coffee for breakfast, in that order, so Leon tried his best to accommodate him. It was only fair, after all, since Raihan was a wonderful host. The least Leon could do was getting the coffee maker running – the coffee maker he’d bought explicitly to serve Raihan his morning coffee and save him the trouble of stumbling half asleep across the street to get his caffeine fix – and make him something sweet to start the day. By the time Raihan stumbled downstairs around seven, still sleepy despite the shower, Leon got to sit on the kitchen counter, legs swinging lazily, as he drank his second mug of tea of the day and watched Raihan eat what he’d made. They chatted about the Gym, about the League, about their upcoming weekly battle, about the baby pokemon in their care, about grocery shopping and Leon’s errands for the day. It was comfortable enough Leon was always sorry when the clock hit eight and Raihan excused himself to go to work. 

Leon spent the first two hours of his morning trolling through cooking videos to figure out what to cook for dinner. He took notes and made a list of ingredients, which he then spent an hour meticulously finding sources for all of them, around town, and tracing an ideal route to get them all that was supposed to take about an hour, hour and half to complete. Then he checked on the babies one last time, locked the house, and went on an adventure to try and follow his notes. He got lost every single day, walking hours on end around the twisty streets, seeking out obscure storefronts. He always took up to four hours exploring, half because he kept taking the wrong turn, every turn, half because he got stopped for an autograph or a photo, or because he asked for directions and ended up striking up conversation with shop owners and random café patrons, when he did. 

It was nice, though. 

It was _nice_. 

He could get lost and no one was mad at him for it. No one was disappointed or inconvenienced. No meetings needed to be rescheduled. No one had to hold his hand all day and act as a guide. He could get lost and _enjoy himself_ as he did, because he found new, exciting things in every outing. No matter how lost he got, how badly he miscalculated, he didn’t feel stupid for it. There was no one there to _tell_ him he was stupid for getting lost. It felt wonderful. 

Still, he did manage to consistently finish his scavenging efforts well past noon, and then it was just a matter of calling Raihan and he’d pick him up, so they could go out and have lunch together. They didn’t have to, was the thing, but Raihan kept inviting him, kept mentioning new places to show him, and Leon just straight up didn’t know how to say no. He didn’t think there was anything Raihan could ask of him, that he’d say no to, really. So lunch was delicious food – delicious, often gimmicky food, because Raihan was a connoisseur of all the different types of food available in Hammerlocke and seemed to be on first-name basis terms with every single owner and manager they met – and more of that comfortable, unscripted chatter Leon couldn’t get enough of. 

Raihan always dropped him back at the house, while he went back to the Gym for a few more hours, so Leon went about using his supplies to make dinner, often while entertaining the baby pokemon that seemed very determined to topple him to the ground sometimes. Some of his attempts were successes, some of them not quite, but Raihan was always game to eat them anyway. After that, Raihan spent the evening gently training the babies, usually with goodra and flygon for support during those mock battles, though lately Leon’s rillaboom kept getting included, and it was almost too much for Leon, to watch the hulking behemoth mock faint dramatically after a jangmo-o successfully tackled him when Raihan commanded him to. Then again, he’d always been a softie, even when he was a grookey, so Leon supposed he couldn’t really be surprised. He wasn’t around for the whole session, though, since he usually excused himself after he was done cleaning up, and went to the gym – the people’s gym, not Raihan’s gym – four blocks away. Then he burned away all the stupid thoughts clogging up his brain, earphones blasting Piers’ latest album at full volume, and it felt wonderful to push himself until he was achingly tired, before he went home. 

Home. 

Most nights he was too tired to dream, and that was exactly how he liked things. 

After the first month, he’d reached the point where he was comfortable enough to contemplate this as the rest of his life, and it – all of it, the battles and the routines and Raihan’s smiles and the sound of Raihan snoring across the hallway every morning, all of it – didn’t seem like too bad a deal to settle for. 

Leon was not the kind of person who settled for anything less than exactly what he wanted, though. 

“My starter died,” Leon said, slumped over the kitchen table in utter dejection, “again.” 

Rotom floated above his head, expression wry, as his mum’s voice echoed through, soothing. 

“That’s okay, darling,” she said, “that happens sometimes.” 

“But it happened four times in a row, mum,” Leon whined, turning his face sideways to look up at his phone. “I just want some dahi for my rice, why is it so hard?” 

His mum laughed at him, which was criminal and unfair, truly the utter worst thing he’d ever endured. 

Outside, in the garden, he heard haxorus and Raihan’s goodra playing around the shallow pond dish Raihan had installed at some point between Leon’s previous stay and the current one. It sounded like they were having fun. In the living room, the babies were asleep – they spent most of their time asleep, matter of fact, when they weren’t eating voraciously or training with Raihan – with aegislash napping inside their little corral, keeping them company. 

“You didn’t call me about your starter,” his mum said, after the laughter died out, voice soft and poignant, as always, “did you?” 

“No,” Leon agreed, “I didn’t.” 

“Well, why don’t you tell me why you called,” she said, voice gently teasing, “while I set up a box of my starter for you? I’m sure Hop will be more than happy to drop it over the weekend.” 

“Is it too early?” Leon asked, throat suddenly dry and voice suitably hoarse. 

“For your brother to visit you?” His mum asked, feigning ignorance. 

In the background, Leon could hear her opening the creaky cabinet over the sink, where she kept all her plastic containers. 

“For me to decide that he’s the one,” Leon replied, licking his lips. “It… it feels too soon, but I’m also really sure.” 

“What’s the thing you hate the most about living with him?” His mum asked, no teasing to her voice left. 

Leon blinked, sitting up properly to frown at the empty kitchen. 

“What?” 

“Your father is physically incapable of folding a pair of socks properly, it’s very infuriating,” his mum said, fond exasperation in her voice. “He can remember twenty years back of wool prices and he keeps his appointment to water his flowerbeds to the second, every single day. But he can’t for the life of him do laundry. I’ve known that about him, and hated it fiercely, since well before we got married.” She paused significantly. “I still married him, though. Because even the worst thing about living with him was not nearly enough to offset the balance of what I loved about living with him.” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, “mum. _Thank you_.” 

“The rest of your life is a very long time, darling,” she said, wise and gentle, like always. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t take your time and make sure you choose right.” 

* * *

He found his answer almost two months later, when Raihan left with Piers at the end of summer, to camp over at the Lake of Outrage, which apparently, they’d been doing, every year, since Raihan became Gym Leader. 

Leon watched them go and assured Raihan he could stay on his own for two weeks and at the bare minimum not set the house on fire in the meantime. 

It was _miserable_ and he couldn’t even really articulate why without coming across as an asshole. 

He hated that Raihan was with Piers, even though Piers had made it very clear they weren’t dating. He hated _himself_ for hating that Raihan was with Piers. He hated that Raihan didn’t really _share_ anything about Piers, about their friendship and their history, and he hated himself viscerally for how jealous that made him. He felt petty and entitled, and he hated it. 

Raihan had opened his home to him, welcomed him with open arms and asked for really very little in return, and Leon couldn’t even respect that Raihan had a life of his own, friendships of his own. It gnawed at him, bitter and angry, as he went about trying to keep himself busy and his mind off things. If Raihan were posting pictures to social media, like he usually did, Leon reckoned he’d be alright. But there was absolute radio silence – he’d never noticed, but when he went and looked back, to years prior, every year had the same two week abyss in Raihan’s timeline, and then he hated himself even _more_ for having gone looking, of course – and the silence fed the ugly, terrible thing inside his brain that delighted in tormenting him every waking moment, if he let it. 

It was so stupid, though. 

He missed Raihan so viscerally, it would be funny if it didn’t hurt so bad. They’d just spent a couple months living together, after years of not seeing each other more than once a quarter, and yet now he was incapable of functioning properly, without being consumed in turns by jealousy and the dumb anxious voice that lived in the back of his brain. He missed their morning chatter and their lunches and the look of surprise on Raihan’s face, when they ate dinner and Leon managed not to screw it up. He missed telling Raihan a good pun and watch his face scrunch up with a groan, like they caused him literal physical pain. He missed the hours they spent in the living room, reading or watching TV or just… _existing_ in the same space, sharing that intangible, undefined thing called _company_. 

Leon had been trained to be alone, ever since he became champion. He knew the value of his own company and to fight off loneliness by relying on his pokemon for support. He’d gotten by fifteen years as champion and one disastrous one as chairman, and he’d never felt so miserably lonely, as he did, the two weeks Raihan spent away, doing whatever it was he did, when he hanged out with Piers. 

“This is it,” Leon whispered one day, after he found himself doing his own laundry and eyeing the tub that Raihan had left behind before he left. 

Folded right at the top was a well-worn, familiar hoodie. Raihan had several of those, Leon knew, just like he had several copies of his official uniform, but still. It was right there, waiting to be washed, big and fluffy and – probably – still smelling of Raihan. 

“God,” Leon laughed, when he gave into temptation to pull the hoodie out of its pile and press his face into it – and yes, sweat and sand and _dragon_ , sure enough, a scent his brain could only really classify as _Raihan_ – like the absolute fucking monster he was. “I’ve really gone full-on serial killer creep, huh.” 

But hey, at least he had an answer, now. 


	3. regression and escalation

When Raihan came home, it took every bit of Leon’s self-control to keep himself from blurting out his feelings the moment he walked through the door. 

He knew he shouldn’t, and the fact Raihan looked exhausted helped, but it was hard. One of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life, kind of hard. He just… wasn’t built to keep things to himself, or to not do what needed doing, once he figured it out. Rose used to call it recklessness and chided him gently for it, whenever he couldn’t just straight up keep things from him, to prevent him from rushing head first into stupidity. He couldn’t really help himself, most of the time, and to be fair, it had served him well, over the years. He was allergic to dithering, his Nan used to say, when he was small and sat on her knee to hear her stories and steal a tiny, magical sip from her polteageist, every once in a while. 

Personally, he liked to call it decisiveness, but he understood it wasn’t always the best policy. 

Life would be so infinitely easier, in Leon’s humble opinion, if people would just _say_ what they meant, instead of being roundabout. But that wasn’t how the world worked. That wasn’t how business worked. He’d gotten better at it, really, after a year running Macro Cosmo and coming face to face with the real, raw truth of how exactly their world worked. He was very careful about opening his mouth and telling anyone how he thought things should work, though. He knew better, now, what happened when people with power went around telling others how things should be. 

He saw a lot of things, when he looked at himself in the mirror, but the one he didn’t want to ever see was a ghost of Rose. 

He’d gotten very good, of late, to judge the difference between having learned something, from his time under Rose’s tutelage, and catching himself emulating his example without thinking. So far, the greatest rebuke he’d found, for the way his brain insisted on nitpicking every thought he ever had, was the fact he’d quit. Rose wouldn’t have, he knew. Rose couldn’t give up control of something, once he deemed it his. So there was that… right up until he found himself drowning in jealousy and he had to unpack it, one layer at the time, and scrub away any urge to exert control. 

It wouldn’t be so bad, he reckoned, if he could just _tell_ Raihan about his feelings and get it over and done with; regardless of the outcome, at least it would be out in the open and he could be ready to deal with whatever the consequences where. 

Maybe today, Leon sighed, twirling the string of his tea bag, waiting for it to finish steeping. He’d kept it to himself all weekend, letting Raihan relax and unwind from his trip – and he didn’t _say_ anything about his trip, except call Piers names every now and then, and that was perfectly fine, Leon knew better than to be rude and outright ask, even if he was dying a little inside. 

Maybe. 

Then his rotom chirped at him, looking almost apologetic, given the ring tone. 

“It’s not even six in the morning, Mia,” Leon said, after tickling rotom between the eyes, to accept the call. 

“Yes,” she said, voice teasing, “but you wake up at five.” 

“I’m retired,” Leon said pointedly, looking away from the phone to pluck his teabag out of his mug. “For all you know, I’m waking up at noon every day, now.” 

“You could,” she agreed, and then snorted, “but you don’t.” 

Leon took a sip of his tea, staring out the window into the backyard, where his pokemon were basking in the crisp, early morning air. 

“I don’t,” he said, sighing. “What do you want, Mia?” 

“Invite you out for breakfast,” she explained, not in the least bit intimidated by his tone. “Let me pick at your brain a bit.” 

That sounded singularly unpleasant, Leon reckoned, if only because she’d only want his opinion if she’d already made a decision and knew he was going to disagree. Except he wasn’t in a position to really disagree anymore, unless she made such a big mess of things, that he had to step in from the investor side. But there were very few ways for her to do something on that scale, considering her role was so carefully and purposefully surgically removed from the Macro Cosmos ecosystem. 

It’d been barely three months, since he’d stepped down as Chairman of the League, it did not bode well that his replacement was already seeking him out again. 

“The Rose?” Leon asked, frowning slightly. 

“Or HQ, if you want, or anywhere else, my treat,” she agreed easily. “Please.” 

“The Rose works,” Leon said, licking his lips. “I take it it’s going to be a private conversation, and they’re good at that.” 

And he was honestly looking forward to never again set foot inside the League HQ, he didn’t say, but he got the feeling she heard it anyway. 

“See you at nine?” She asked, and Leon realized she thought he was still in Postwick. 

Which, why wouldn’t she? That was where he’d said he’d be. 

“More like seven,” Leon corrected, taking a longer sip of his tea. “I’m… staying with a friend in Hammerlocke.” 

“Seven it is,” she said, pointedly without comment. 

Leon didn’t know why he _expected_ a comment, but decided not to think about it. He had barely enough time to leave Raihan’s breakfast on the table, along with a short note – _Went to Wyndon! Call you later! L_ – before he was riding charizard out into the icy mountain air. He could have taken the train – the train was, in fact, marginally faster – but he took the chance to clear his head and bask in the frozen gale sneaking between his shirt and his skin. 

It occurred to him, as he landed outside the Rose, that he hadn’t… really dressed properly for a meeting with the Chairman of the League. It wasn’t like he didn’t _have_ clothes for that sort of meeting, Henri had seen to it that he had an outfit for any occasion he might need and quite a few that he didn’t even know were occasions one could face. Even after he retired, he still got emails and the occasional package, because apparently Henri liked to design things to go with his hair. Leon knew for a fact his hair was a pain to design around, considering the subtle and not so subtle nudges he’d gotten over the years, to stop making his image management team cry and just cut the whole thing off. He liked his hair, though, so he never had, refusing to take the hint. It was the most selfish, unkind thing he could think of, about his time as Champion, but he still liked his hair way more than he felt guilty about it. So there was that. 

He looked down at himself – jeans and a turtleneck and a nice jacket – and while he knew they looked good – they were all Henri’s designs, so of course they looked good – they were a far cry from the white suits he used to wear for official League business. As he petted charizard’s neck and kissed the side of her face, thanking her for the ride, he marveled at the fact this might be the first time in his life that felt _underdressed_ for an occasion. The Champion only wore the Champion uniform for the season, to the point where Leon was quite sure there were people who failed to recognize him on the street because he wasn’t wearing the familiar outfit. The Chairman had his own uniform of sorts, too, sharp suits and well-tailored shirts and a distressing lack of hats unless he was actively trying to be _approachable_. 

Leon really didn’t have that. 

Leon picked his clothes from whatever came out of his suitcase – Raihan insisted he could use the small closet in the guestroom, but Leon still kept his clothes neatly packed inside the suitcase tucked under the bed – without much thought. Henri sent him stuff that had a consistent palette and tended to mix and match well enough, but it wasn’t like Leon _cared_ if his clothes clashed. 

He didn’t. 

He walked into the Rose, and headed straight for the private dining room usually reserved for the Chairman or important League guests, and pointedly did not stop even when one of the hotel employees by the door made a move to intercept him, before someone else dragged them back, hissing in nervous whispers that he couldn’t quite make out. Leon licked his lips and scanned the empty room as he entered, eyes landing on Mia as she stood from her table and smiled at him. 

She still wore her hair in the familiar loop, like all her relatives did, but her clothes were very different from the plain nurse uniform seen around all of Galar’s pokemon centers. She looked nice, but as distinct from his old Chairman look as he’d – hopefully – made his own distinct from Rose’s. 

“It’s nice to see you, Leon,” Mia said, smiling kindly at him as he approached and dutifully leaned in so she could kiss his cheek in greeting. “Thank you for coming.” 

“It’s okay,” he said, helping her take her seat before he took his own. “I’m not going to enjoy this conversation, am I?” 

Mia laughed and reached out to slide the leather-bound menu across the table. 

“Probably not.” 

Leon sighed. 

* * *

Leon’s gut reaction was to say no. 

Actually, honor to the truth, it was more along the lines of _fucking hell, no fucking way, why would you even ask that._ But he was keenly aware that people were deeply uncomfortable when he swore so he consciously rarely did. Even if sometimes no one would really blame him for it. But he trusted Mia enough to agree to meet the boy, before he cast his vote on the matter. He was aware he didn’t _really_ have a vote, but the fact Mia wanted him to have a say reflected on how well she knew him and exactly why he’d chosen her to take over this particular piece of his stupid job, once he’d decided he was going to quit. Mia was kind and smart and deeply knowledgeable of the human and pokemon cost of the League. She’d cared for Leon and his pokemon for years, and as their friendship grew, she was one of the few people that Leon had ever known to be even remotely critical of the Chairman, while existing deep in the cogs of his Champion production. She was smart and she cared about pokemon, and she was ready to fight whoever needed fighting, to reform the League in all the ways Leon knew it desperately needed. 

Still, it was hard to keep an open mind when every fiber of his being rebelled against the idea of putting someone so young in charge of a Gym. Even if he said he wanted it and the Gym leader who endorsed him had full confidence in him. 

Ten years old, and a ghost trainer to boot. 

There was no way Leon wouldn’t take it personally, either way, if he wasn’t involved. Mia knew him entirely too well for comfort, sometimes. 

* * *

Leon spent most of the morning wandering aimlessly through the streets of Wyndon. 

It wasn’t familiar at all, he noted, not the way Hammerlocke had become, over the past few months. Even though he’d never had a fixed address, during his tenure as Champion, Wyndon was by far the city he spent the most time in, over the years. And yet, in fifteen years all together, he’d never gotten much of a taste for it. He’d never gotten to really explore it at his leisure, the same way he’d done with Hammerlocke, though, so perhaps that was to blame. 

But it was also the poignant lack of history that got to him. 

The stones of Hammerlocke were ancient. The old walls and fortifications, stretching out from the old Keep and embracing the town all around them, they had that tangy echo of _stories_ caught in them. Leon was sure he could make out the details, if he cared to try, though truth be told he hadn’t _tried_ anything of the sort in years. 

It wasn’t very Champion-like, after all, to press his ear to old, crumbly ruins and try to make out the shape of their past. It was creepy and unsettling and not okay. And he knew better, after all, than to try. He knew so many things, now, through the lens of hindsight and fifteen years of Rose being there, knowing better, a guiding hand to shape him into the kind of Champion the people of Galar felt comfortable cheering for. 

Wyndon was everything Rose had wanted it to be: clean and stark and vibrant. The crown jewel of Galar, where all his dreams for the future came together to become reality. It was rebuilt often and scrupulously maintained, even now, more than a year after Rose was gone. And as a result, the echoes were faint to nonexistent, in Wyndon. There were no stories for Leon to dig out, no memories to tease out the shape of, out of a piece of cobble or a specific brick in a wall. Though maybe he couldn’t do it anymore, not after so many years of carefully and purposefully avoiding it. After all, he’d been home for a whole month, back in Postwick, and he hadn’t heard the song from the Weald even once. 

He wasn’t bitter about that. 

He wasn’t. 

He’d made the choice to go along with it, just the same way he’d made a choice to go along with everything that was required of him, as Champion. Rose asked and he obeyed, and it was fine because he’d chosen it, all of it. He didn’t get to be bitter about his own choices, he didn’t get to be _petty_. Plenty of others had it worse than him, he knew. Plenty of others suffered so much more, at Rose’s hands. Him? He got the soft words and the chiding tone and the encouraging smiles that guided him down the path Rose wanted him to take. And he knew and he made a choice and it was no one’s fault, but his own. 

He’d been eleven and stupid, but he’d made his choice, and he would have been perfectly happy to live with that choice – lies, lies, all lies, he’d been inconsolable for months, but he couldn’t tell his parents, then, not when Hop had just been born and everyone was euphoric about it, he couldn’t be selfish and ask them to come back, deny his baby brother a childhood free from the hassle of the Champion’s lifestyle – if not for the sudden, unwanted reminder that was Mia’s conundrum about Stow-on-Side’s Gym. 

After all, ghosts had such a poor grasp of time, they probably wouldn’t notice how long it’d been until they saw him. 

They were probably happier without him and his dumb hang ups. 

Maybe. 

But they deserved a say in it, one they hadn’t had, when he’d been small and stupid and Rose looked him in the eye and explained why he needed to do this, in a way that felt heavy and absolute, for all he couldn’t even remember the exact words he’d used. 

Leon found himself standing in the middle of a park, and wondered if it’d make the news if he hurled into the nearest trashcan. 

* * *

“We’re gonna go down memory lane today,” Leon told charizard, after he let her out of her ultraball, leaning in to press his face against her neck. “You up for a bit of a trip?” 

Charizard roared contently, wings spread wide, and Leon did not scream. 

“Let’s go say hi to old friends, then.” 

By the time she was flying him straight to the frozen heart of route 9, Leon had completely forgotten the fact he’d promised Raihan that he’d call at some point. Charizard made a low huffing noise, not amused by the cold, as Leon walked to the edge of the frozen rock shore and whistled a short little jingle, index fingers in his mouth. 

For a very long moment nothing happened. Leon shifted his weight from foot to foot, anxious and trying his best to ignore the swirl of terrible thoughts bubbling in the back of his mind, but then, sure enough, he felt the tell-tale shiver crawl up his spine. His lips twitched into a smile without him noticing as the water shifted and a large shadow appeared just under the surface. 

“Hi,” Leon called out fondly, as the massive anchor broke through, letting out the familiar clicking sound of its spectral helm. 

Dhelmise watched him for a moment, studying him, and Leon wondered if it was puzzling over how different he looked now, than fifteen years ago. Then the moment passed and it let out a happy chirp, leaning in to rub itself against Leon’s face. Leon laughed, dutifully running his fingers through the thick mass of seaweed. It then let out another cheerful chirp as it disappeared into the depths of an old, well-worn pokeball. 

One down, two to go. 

Leon made sure to scratch the underside of charizard’s chin, before they took off, heading straight for the Dusty Bowl. 

* * *

Runerigus was particularly happy to see him, even if Leon stumbled a bit into the hug, flashes of screaming doom bombarding his senses at the touch. It took a moment to remember how to power through it, and then he was laughing and reassuring the fussy thing that he wasn’t mad. She cried – Leon could tell, even if the cocky grin remained as immobile as any other painting – as he recalled her back into her old pokeball. 

She hadn’t wanted to go, Leon remembered absently, holding the pokeball in a tight, white-knuckled grip. 

Out of all his team, she had been the one who’d taken the most convincing to talk into hiding out here. Out of all his team, she’d been the one he’d come visit more, at first, before the schedule got worse and worse and he lost control of it entirely. He’d been sure she was fine, though, tucked away somewhere comfortable and soothing where she could sleep peacefully in between visits. But she hadn’t been at all like dhelmise, who just enjoyed spooking unsuspecting people and putting the fear of it in the occasional wailord. She liked battles and traveling with him. He’d learned to endure her hugs, he recalled, after she’d evolved unexpectedly and touching the black wisps became an exercise in withstanding torture. 

Charizard made a worried noise, and Leon stared at his hand, almost surprised by the fact it was pressed hard against the rock, not registering the pain as it traveled up his wrist, throbbing faintly. Punching rocks, he knew, was not exactly productive. 

But sometimes it was cathartic. 

“Let’s go,” he said, licking his lips. “If we hurry, we’ll get to Ballonlea in time for tea.” 

* * *

The joke, of course, was that it was always tea time, in Ballonlea, if you knew how to ask politely enough. It was almost quarter past ten, when Leon knocked on Opal’s door, but she still let him in, herding him to her living room, and then bullying him into preparing his own damn tea while she sat on her couch and watched him with shrewd, judging eyes. 

“It’ll feel better, you know,” she said, tone almost indifferent, “when you finally let yourself be angry about it.” 

But before he could ask, she’d thrown out a greatball, and a rather familiar shape popped out of it, right on the center of the living room carpet. 

“Hi,” Leon began, tentative, as the tiny, beady eyes fixated on him. 

Mimikyu smacked him right in the chest with its little club-like tail, the moment he saw him, and Leon wheezed as all air was forcefully knocked out of his lungs at once. 

“He’s gotten stronger, of course,” Opal said, watching with amusement as Leon slowly collapsed on the ground. 

“I can tell,” Leon muttered hoarsely, before he broke down coughing. “I’ve missed you too,” he added, chuckling weakly as mimikyu froze in place, surprised by the comment. “You’re cute as ever,” he went on, and perhaps it was too much teasing, because he got another tail smack to the face for his trouble. 

“If you take him with you,” Opal said, tone casually sharp, as Leon laughed and rubbed his cheek, “it has to be for good.” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“I know,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He offered a hand out to mimikyu. “But it also has to be what he wants.” 

Leon got the club equivalent of an uppercut for his trouble, which left him sprawled on his back on the floor. Mimikyu jumped on his chest, feeling significantly heavier than Leon knew him to be, and looked down at him with clear expectation. 

“I hope you’re enjoying your retirement as much as I am mine,” Opal said, with the air of a taunting observation. 

Leon laughed, hiding his face with his hands. 

“I’m trying.” 

Mercifully, she spared him further comment on that. 

* * *

It was past midnight, when he got home – the word echoed airy and terrifying in the back of his mind – charizard landing gently directly on the yard. 

Raihan’s pokemon shifted slightly, looking up at him as he made his way inside, before going right back to sleep. Leon closed the door into the kitchen and found a small takeout box sitting on the table, with the same post-it note he’d left for Raihan in the morning, only with an added line below – _Hope you’re okay, R_ – sitting neatly on his usual place at the table. The food was cold, by then, so Leon went through the motions of transferring into a plate and heating it up mechanically, without any real conscious thought. 

And then he was sitting there, staring at the plate and feeling his stomach roll angrily up against the back of his throat, and his eyes were wet, and he was so _angry_ he could barely hold it in. 

No, he decided, by the time he managed to bottle it all in, folding it over and over again until it fit back inside his bones, he was not okay. 

The food was cold again, by then, but he ate it anyway. 

One thing at the time. 

* * *

Ghosts didn’t _need_ to eat, on account of… well, being ghosts. 

But some of them liked it, either for its own sake or, in mimikyu’s case, for the sake of being annoying. Leon bit the inside of his lip and watched with amusement as the sly little thing tried to steal bits from other pokemon’s bowls, particularly haxorus’, and when confronted with retaliation, it slithered back and hid behind charizard. He’d always done that, Leon remembered, and let himself be sad, rather than angry, remembering the way he always ended up shielding itself behind her, then a charmander. He’d always been a nuisance, of course, and that had been the primary reason Leon had taken him along in the first place, despite Sonia’s insistence that it might a bit out of his league. Sure, Leon had caught it, and mimikyu had chosen to stay in the ball when he did, but he’d been too high level for Leon to command properly and he’d refused to listen all the way to Ballonlea, where he’d finally obeyed and helped Leon make his way through the Gym. Opal and her team brought out the worst of mimikyu’s competitiveness, Leon knew, which was why he’d gone to her, when his mischievous nature started to rack up complaints after he became Champion, and Rose began to make more and more pointed comments about what was and wasn’t appropriate, of his pokemon. 

But not, Leon realized, feeling the sadness melt away into stone cold fury again, until after his parents went back to Postwick. 

Because his mum was the only person he knew, that mimikyu was nice to, consistently, and whom he never played any sort of pranks on, so of course she had a soft spot for him. His mum would have definitely protested, if Rose had made his comments in that tone, anywhere she could hear. She had, in fact, questioned his decision to leave mimikyu in Ballonlea, Leon realized with an unpleasant jolt, but she didn’t really push it, because she thought that was a decision he’d made. 

His own choice. 

He felt the tell-tale tingling sensation of dragapult’s tail coiling around his waist, and a moment later, he felt his claws kneading soothingly into his hair. 

“It’s okay,” Leon whispered, reaching down to finger the translucent coil, well aware he was keeping mostly intangible so as to not weight down on him. “I’m working on it.” 

Technically, he wasn’t. Not yet, anyway. Couldn’t work on anything if he was too busy being too furious about it to think straight, after all. But technically, figuring out his feelings about it – rage that fluctuated wildly between molten hot and icy cold, but didn’t lessen in intensity, either way – was the first step to actually deal with them. Hopefully. That was the theory, anyway. 

Instead he sipped his tea and watched the pokemon in the yard, pointedly aware of the way his team was closing ranks around the three, almost purposefully keeping Raihan’s team at a distance. 

Rillaboom and seismitoad were more than happy to help dhelmise preen itself, fingering the seaweed chain and rinsing it in the pond with the same sort of fastidiousness they used to clean themselves. It didn’t surprise Leon at all, that seismitoad would immediately try to make friends with the others, she was always the sort to mediate and try to befriend every pokemon in Leon’s team. Still, it was quite the image, dhelmise’s eye half-closed and its helm spinning lazily, making low, clicking noises of sheer content. The anchor was big enough to be a bit intimidating, and consequently to look kind of ridiculous where it was, soaking its tip in the pond. Goodra was circling them curiously, though, so perhaps eventually they’d interact. 

For her part, runerigus was folded up into a non-descript chunk of rock, with aegislash propped against its side, seemingly asleep. Leon knew better, of course, and apparently so did rhyperior, sitting next to them and slowly eating his breakfast, posture just tense enough that Leon realized he was keeping guard. 

They were raucous and playful and a little mean, maybe, but they were _his_. 

Even now, after everything, they still chose to come back to him. 

And Rose had talked him into sending them away, that they were not suitable to stay with him, while he was Champion. That they were better off on their own, far away where no one would be creeped out. After all, Leon could learn how to not upset people – he hated upsetting people, hated the idea that he made people angry or sad, and not all of it was Rose’s whispers in the back of his head, he genuinely hated doing harm – but ghosts could never learn to be anything less than ghosts. 

Leon took a deep breath, tried to put his mug gently on the counter and found himself holding the handle as it snapped clean off the mug, like maybe he hadn’t really put it down gently so much as sharply and a bit too hard. 

“Shit,” Leon said, staring down at the mug – it wasn’t really _his_ , Raihan had bought it for him, the day he’d moved in and they’d gone out to buy supplies to stock up the kitchen, it was black with a cute charizard drawing that only showed once hot liquid was poured into it, and Leon loved it more than he could put into words, because it was the sort of silly thing Raihan would do just to be _nice._

Leon swallowed hard and let out a breath slowly, bit by bit, squeezing air through his teeth as he did, and then realizing his jaw ached. So he licked his lips, carefully placed the broken handle next to the mug, and went to rummage in the drawer by the sink, looking for the tiny tube of super glue he’d bought just because his dad had once told him that going around in life without one was inviting disaster. Leon supposed he was right, after all, and found himself spending twenty minutes painstakingly fixing the mug, making sure every shard of chipped porcelain aligned properly so the break wouldn’t be visible, once the glue dried. 

If you did it carefully enough, Leon reckoned, if you took your time and accounted for every stray bit of it, you could fix things well enough no one would ever realize they had been broken in the first place. 

And that’s how Raihan found him, running almost an hour late to his usual morning routine, still fussing with his mug and breakfast nowhere near ready. 

“Whoa,” he said, stopping at the doorway, and staring at the window, “what’s that?” 

Leon startled – nearly dropped the mug again, only he didn’t, he didn’t, fingers clutching it tight in place – and turned to follow his gaze, taking another deep breath. 

“Oh,” he said, aiming desperately for a welcoming, definitely not incandescent-with-rage tone, “it’s a dhelmise.” 

“I mean, yes,” Raihan laughed, walking into the kitchen with a little shrug, “I mean more like… what’s it doing in the pond on our yard.” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“It’s mine,” he said softly, slowly turning the mug in his hands, if only to have something to do that wasn’t outright fidgeting, “runerigus and mimikyu, too.” 

Raihan blinked. 

“Huh,” he said, though he didn’t look upset, which Leon only realized he was bracing against because – _ghosts are unsettling, Leon, they make people uncomfortable in ways the Champion can’t afford_ – he was still caught up in his own thoughts and his own feelings. “Went on a catching spree yesterday?” Raihan asked, head tilted to the side, teasing tilt to his mouth. “Afraid you need to retool your team to stand a chance on this week’s match?” 

Leon stared, knew he was staring and didn’t know how to stop. 

He swallowed hard. 

“They’re my team,” he said, voice soft, “my original gym challenge team.” 

Raihan’s smirk fell right off, eyes widening. 

Most people, Leon knew, assumed the team he’d used to defend his title, that first year, was the same team that had carried him through the original championship. He also knew that was explicitly by design, given how Macro Cosmo controlled the broadcasting of League events. Rose had declared his championship team taboo, and diligently and dutifully, all footage of his first year of matches disappeared. There were only a handful of trainer cards available with his original number – he hadn’t chosen _1_ when he’d set out, even he wasn’t that arrogant – and his actual team listed on the back. Hop had one, Sonia had another and Leon himself had the last one still out in the wild. The rest had been slowly collected or bought out and eventually destroyed. 

He didn’t really _mind_ that there was no record of how awkward he’d been, at ten, dumb and utterly unsure of who he was. But it was just another symptom of how his past had been scrubbed clean and properly primed for PR efforts. Leon had released a trainer card every year since he became Champion, with studio lights and his image team coordinating every tiny detail to make it as marketable as possible. 

He’d considered releasing one, as Chairman – after all, Rose had had one – but he wanted his number back, he wanted it even if Gloria had refused to change hers to the Champion’s 1, and… well, he wasn’t a trainer anymore, was he? Only trainers had League numbers. 

“I thought you didn’t specialize in any one type,” Raihan said, staring at Leon in fascination. 

Not angry, not creeped out. Just... Surprised. 

“When Rose was Chairman, yes, the Champion was not allowed to focus on one type over any other,” Leon explained, trying to keep his tone flippant and knowing he was failing miserably, just by the way Raihan narrowed his eyes. Leon laughed awkwardly. “You should have seen the row we had, over dreepy, he wanted me to give it back and only keep axew. Better type coverage and team synergy that way, he said.” Leon licked his lips. “I won that argument, obviously.” 

He needed to shut up. He needed to shut his mouth and bite the bitter tirade in half before he said something he regretted. Instead he found himself basking in the look of molten outrage in Raihan’s face, his own anger validated by the echo of his rival’s. 

“But then,” Leon said, licking his lips, “I wasn’t twelve by then.” 

Raihan bared his teeth on reflex, and Leon felt like an asshole, for how much he appreciated it. It was nice, that some one else was angry with him. He was painfully aware that he was basically winding up Raihan for his own benefit, and his own selfishness irritated him. 

But then Raihan let out a sharp breath, licking his lips. 

“Fuck Rose,” he said, reaching out to throw an arm around Leon’s shoulders, tucking him up against his side, not quite a hug as he nudged them towards the door, “you never told Gloria she shouldn’t focus on her Poison types.” 

If he weren’t, truth be told, fairly sure about his feelings by then, Leon reckoned he could love Raihan just for how cleanly he’d speared through the bubble of anxiety swelling somewhere in the back of his throat, without asking for Leon to explain himself in further detail. It was just the sort of thing Raihan did, easy and nonchalant, like it was no big deal at all. 

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me?” Raihan asked, one eyebrow arched, as they reached the door. 

He stopped short from opening it, though, giving Leon one last out, a chance to say no and stop, because that was just the sort of rival Raihan had always been, pushing Leon right to the edge but always letting him take the next step all on his own. Because their competitiveness wasn’t about who won and who lost, but who got _better_ , always, and really, Leon didn’t just blurt out his feelings right there and then, because he was enough of a mess already, as it was. 

“C’mon,” Leon said, pulling away from the sinfully comfortable warmth of Raihan’s side, and found it in himself to smile in a way that truly reached his eyes, since his meeting with Mia the day before, “they’re going to love you.” 

Because honestly, how could anyone meet Raihan and _not_ love him on the spot? 

* * *

Raihan never did go to work, that morning. 

Not, as Leon had feared when he squatted down to meet mimikyu eye to eye so to speak, because he’d gotten attacked by the temperamental bag of darkness and no sense of restraint – matter of fact, mimikyu _loved_ Raihan, immediately, to the point where Leon had vague déjà vu about his own meeting with Hubris the garchomp weeks prior, and found he suddenly understood Raihan’s irritation about the whole thing perfectly, watching the manic bag of bad temper slither up Raihan’s back and install itself in the hood of his hoodie, like he owned the place entirely. Raihan was too nice to say anything about it, beyond being amused about it. 

No, Raihan simply stuck around all day, keeping Leon and their pokemon company, willing to play and chat about nothing in particular. He even went as far as to handily deal with the one thing Leon was nervous about, introducing mimikyu to the baby dragons in their care. Raihan somehow talked the little cantankerous wisp to appoint itself guardian and keeper of the babies, and so he puffed up threateningly and shook his club-tail at anyone who approached the babies careful enough for his taste. 

For lunch, Raihan ordered pizza – the thin, crispy, greasy kind you couldn’t just make at home – and nudged Leon to crack open a beer along with it. They ended up in the living room, watching a show all about pokemon contests from Hoenn, drinking and eating and chatting about nothing in particular. It was really nice. 

“Thank you,” Leon muttered into one of Raihan’s thighs, somewhere around eight, because he was drunk and he’d coaxed Raihan to scratch the base of his skull by slumping face first into his lap. 

He was an obnoxious drunk, and he knew it, but he trusted Raihan to not care. Raihan never ever cared, when Leon got drunk and touchy and stupid, and it was _nice_ and he was so tired. Anger was tiresome. Cynically, he wondered if the reason he’d gone so long without being angry about Rose was because he didn’t want to get so tired. And oh, it was exhausting. 

“It’s what rivals do, Lee,” Raihan said, voice soft and kind and everything Leon loved about him, all at once, “keep each other sane, right? It’s only fair.” 

Leon started to protest, that he’d never done anything comparable, that he didn’t deserve a rival like Raihan, who was basically the best, at everything, but by the third slurred word he was snoring. 

He woke up sprawled up against Raihan’s chest, both of them cramped awkwardly on the couch. It was not, despite it all, the first time he’d woken up in a situation like that. The last time it happened, he’d still been Chairman and they’d gotten drunk enough Raihan had ended up explaining his own damn fortune to him. He hadn’t thought much of it, back then, beyond the slight trepidation of being a nuisance and annoying his friend. He’d woken up and then tried his best to sneak off without disturbing Raihan at all. 

He certainly hadn’t lied there, basking in the weight of one of Raihan’s arms on his back or how nice it was to wake up surrounded on all sides by Raihan’s smell. 

Leon just wanted to _tell_ him. 

He’d never wanted anything more in his life, than he did right then. But then the anxiety – and the hangover – slammed face first into his awareness, and he worried that Raihan might… misunderstand his feelings as misplaced stress. He _was_ stressed – and angry and sad and quite possibly a goddamn mess, all around – and while he appreciated Raihan being there to accommodate him, Leon didn’t want him to think he didn’t _mean_ it. 

It was so stupid, really. 

All he had to do was open his damn mouth and let it out, but the fear of being misunderstood was overwhelming. He wanted Raihan to know, yes, but for real, exactly what he meant. 

So he pulled away from the comfortable warmth, licked his lips, and went to take a nice, cold shower to wake up properly. Then he could figure out something nice for Raihan’s breakfast, as a token of appreciation for the day before. 

Right. 

* * *

On Thursday, after Raihan left for the Gym, Leon reorganized his team, chose his five pokemon for the day and left the rest with firm instructions to look after the house and the baby dragons snoozing in the living room. Then he was off, heading straight for Stow-on-Side Gym, to meet Bea’s candidate for succession, Allister. 

The meeting was at noon, so he took his time getting there, walking along the rocky road. 

Route 6 was perhaps the only route in all of Galar that he _hadn’t_ gotten lost in, during his Gym Challenge. All of route 6 was layered with stories and whispers, if one knew how to listen, all of which lead to the deeper, haunting hum that slept beneath the mural beyond the Stadium, and Leon had known how to do that, back then. He’d found yamask there – or she had found him, all things considered – and it had been there, perhaps, that Sonia stopped suggesting new members for his team that weren’t some type of ghost themselves. 

It’d been sixteen years now, since Leon had found himself walking under the stone arches before the diglett monuments, one hand pressed to the rock and ears open wide. It’d been sixteen years by then, since he’d _done_ that, any of that, or spoke of it with anyone. Because it’d been sixteen years since he stopped being a trainer and became a Champion, bound by all those things that Champions could and couldn’t do, should and shouldn’t be. 

He remembered it being clearer, the echoes. He remembered it being instinctive, the bits and pieces oozing off the rocks themselves. It was still there, and that had him grinning like an idiot as he made his way through the yellowed tall grass. It was still there, but it was… _less_ than he remembered. And if it was because he just wasn’t a child anymore, and he kept trying to impose logic on his insights, or he just was rusty at it… well, it didn’t really matter. He told himself it didn’t matter, because there was still _something_. 

One less thing Rose tried to steal away from him, that he got back for himself: like his brother, like his freedom. 

“I can’t take you with me,” Leon said, looking down at the duskull floating by his ankle. It looked up at him, red eye bright and inquisitive. Leon smiled. “But I don’t mind company on my walk, if you want to come along.” 

It stared and stared, and then rolled its eye inside its skull, almost if it wanted to see if it freaked him out. Leon thought it was cute, really, but dutifully held the stare and waited for it to make a choice. Then it chirped rather happily circled its way up and around him, to come sit on his shoulder. Leon laughed even as his skin broke into goosebumps where it touched him, and offered a sympathetic pat on its head for its trouble. 

Long roads were always best with company, after all. 

* * *

Allister was small. 

He was ten years old, of course he was small, but even for that age, he was _small._ Leon towered over him when Bea introduced them, and the fact he was wearing a porcelain mask to hide his face only made him look even tinier. Having Mia and Bea there to speak for him – Leon kept asking _him_ questions, and they kept answering for him when he kept quiet, and Leon couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t know how to answer or because they weren’t giving him enough time to process and come up with his own answers – it wasn’t helping much, either. 

“A while back,” Leon said abruptly, staring at Allister in the eye and refusing to look away, “a friend reminded me that Gym Leaders don’t really get to go all out, in their fights.” 

“It’s a test,” Allister muttered, voice faint and barely audible, “pass or fail, nothing else.” 

“Yeah, but that’s boring,” Leon said, utterly ignoring Bea’s splutter and Mia hiding her face behind a hand. “If you’ve been training to take over Bea, when was the last time you got a chance to go all out?” 

“You want a fight,” Allister said, sounding vaguely puzzled. “Why?” 

Leon smiled. 

“Because it’s fun,” he said, licking his lips, “and… you can be whoever you want to be, off the pitch, but you gotta give it your all, in it.” 

“…I’ll make you scream,” the boy said, eyes narrowed behind his mask, a glimmer of light despite the obscuring effect. 

“Allister,” Bea chided, frowning. 

Leon was grinning though, and waved a dismissive hand, hopefully in a reassuring fashion. Though given the look Mia was giving him, that was probably not the way it landed. 

“Let’s have some fun, yeah?” Leon said, hands stuck into the pockets of his jacket. “Just… go all out.” 

“It’ll be your funeral,” the boy said solemnly, and Leon sincerely believed he meant every word. 

He couldn’t stop smiling. 

* * *

Ghost versus ghost was a _terrible_ matchup. It was up there with fairy versus dragon as far as bad ideas went. 

Nonetheless, he found himself giving it his all, deeply enjoying the plateau of their fight, because Allister was genuinely a talented trainer and his pokemon were viciously strong, and the super-effective matchup meant that they were both bound to get _creative._ It was very distinct from fighting Raihan, Leon noted, recalling a fainted dhelmise that fell prey to chandelure’s mystical fire, but it was one of the most fun battles he’d had in years. Maybe it was the delirious joy in finding he still knew his way around his team, moves familiar and strategies coming back almost all at once. Maybe it was the severe handicap he’d given himself, considering he was down to his last pokemon, much the same way Allister was, but it wasn’t charizard that landed into the field. 

“My very last pokemon…” Allister said, as he threw out the ball and a gengar landed into the arena, looking down warily at Leon’s mimikyu. “How lonely… how frightening… Gigantamax, Gengar,” he called out, the dynamax band on his wrist shining brightly, as he immediately recalled the cackling ghost into the expanding pokeball, “swallow everything in darkness!” 

Leon licked his lips in anticipation, having never faced a gigantamax gengar in the field. There had been a few, over the years, that made it into the Championship Cup, but their trainers never got past Raihan in the finals. 

“Mimikyu,” Leon called out, “swords dance!” 

Mimikyu’s eyes gleamed as it twirled its club-tail in response, preparing to attack. 

“G-max Terror,” Allister commanded, with surprising forcefulness, despite the fact he was still speaking in a whisper. He stared at Leon in the eye, as the massive gengar behind him gathered energy for its attack. “It’s like _shadow tag_ ,” he explained, “though you don’t have anywhere to hide anymore anyway.” 

Leon watched the onslaught on mimikyu without flinching. It was a pretty brutal attack, he conceded, one that would have definitely OHKO’d any other of his pokemon… but not mimikyu. 

Mimikyu stared up at gengar with a borderline mocking expression in its beady eyes, as his disguise broke and the mock-pikachu head flopped sideways dramatically. Leon had always thought it looked cute, though Sonia had often assured him that the imagery was more reminiscent of a broken neck, and thus not cute at all. Sonia wasn’t there to complain about it, though. 

“Never fought a mimikyu before, huh,” Leon said, feeling the confusion oozing out of Allister when he realized that mimikyu had tanked the hit and looked quite unruffled by the whole affair, beyond his busted disguise. “Don’t blame you, they’re not too common around here. Mimikyu’s disguise allows him to take any hit, no matter what it is, and not faint on the spot. It’s a very useful ability!” Leon smiled. “Sadly gengar doesn’t have something quite like it. Shadow claw!” 

It was, admittedly, a pretty funny sight: a tiny mimikyu throwing itself at the behemoth that was gigantamax gengar. But that swords dance hadn’t been for nothing, and if someone knew first hand how hard mimikyu could hit, it was Leon. Despite the bonus health, despite its size, gengar toppled backwards, collapsing into an explosion as it shrunk back to normal size. Allister recalled him before he hit the ground, staring pensively at its pokeball. Leon knew better than to recall mimikyu before it got a chance to bounce about, gloating in its victory. He was definitely not the most gracious of his pokemon, but Leon had a feeling Allister would find it amusing, rather than demoralizing. 

Sure enough, as they approached the center of the pit for the traditional handshake at the end of the match, Allister made sure to look up at Leon, before he pulled the mask off his face, and offered Leon a small, tentative smile. 

“They didn’t say you were…” He trailed off into a little shrug. 

“Like you?” Leon filled in, smiling back. 

“You’re not scared,” Allister pointed out, as he let go of Leon’s hand and then offered his hand to mimikyu, who slapped it with a shadowed claw, almost like a high-five. 

It made Allister’s face lit up on the spot. 

“Oh, I am,” Leon laughed, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “All the time, really. But I’m scared of boring grownup stuff, not… y’know. Ghosts.” He leaned in, as if whispering a secret. “It’s rude to be scared of your friends, and my mum is super strict, about being rude.” 

“Mum doesn’t like my friends,” Allister confessed with a little shrug. “She believes all the bad stories.” He swallowed hard and looked up earnestly at Leon. “That’s why I want to become a Gym Leader. Show them scary can be fun, too.” 

“I mean, the bad stories _are_ true,” Leon pointed out, shrugging, “but so are the good ones. Some people need bad stories, some people need good stories. Doesn’t mean either one is better than the other, in the long run.” He licked his lips. “I’ll support your nomination to become Gym Leader of Stow-on-Side,” Leon said, and then raised a hand when he saw Allister’s eyes widen in surprise. “On one condition.” 

“Anything,” Allister said, surprisingly confident. 

“Promise you’ll call me,” Leon said, “if it ever stops being fun. If you want to quit or you don’t want it anymore. You’ll tell me, and let me help and make sure you can stop.” Leon swallowed hard. “Because you can stop, at any point, for any reason. And it doesn’t matter who objects, if you ask me to make it stop, I _will_ make it stop.” 

Allister nodded thoughtfully, and then looked up at Leon, biting the inside of his lip. 

“…can I keep my mask?” 

Leon beamed. 

“Sure!” He said, as the dire tension drained away all at once. “It’s very spooky.” 

Allister grinned just as he slid it back on. 

“I _know_.” 

* * *

On their weekly fight, the first one they’d had since Raihan had come back from his camping trip with Piers, Leon used his ghost team – plus charizard, of course, there was no pulling punches or handicapping himself, when he was fighting his rival. 

It was a dangerously close match that highlighted, among other things, the way Leon had rearranged his team, over the years, to better face Raihan’s. There was a significant lack of synergy between their teams, and it was exhilarating, how new that was. They’d been fighting each other for so long that they knew the ebb and flow of the battle, and half of it was predicated on guessing what the other would do and making the right choice to invoke the correct countermeasure. 

Raihan _didn’t_ have countermeasures for most of his ghost team, and Leon didn’t really have best strategies to face Raihan’s dragons. 

It was like their very first fight, all those years ago, in the lobby of the rose, awkward and rushed and _earnest_. It was like their very first championship match, heated and drawn out, a constant stream of surprises and creative maneuvers, defying any expectation possible. Even their usual last resort, duraludon versus charizard, the classic end to their fights didn’t actually happen. Flygon took out charizard without dynamaxing, though in the end, it was runerigus that took out duraludon with two earth powers, after the first one got the stagger and caused duralodon’s special defense to drop enough to make the two-shot KO possible. 

“That mimikyu of yours is an _asshole_ ,” Raihan said, one arm thrown over Leon’s shoulders – his favorite guilty pleasure, after their weekly fights, was the way Raihan acted affectionate and nonchalant about it, and how much Leon got to bask in it like the shameless creep he was. “Just so you know.” 

“Oh, he knows,” Leon laughed, one arm firmly wrapped around Raihan’s waist, eyes bright and expression still caught up in the euphoria of the fight. “Takes it as a badge of pride, really.” 

“I feel really smug, now,” Raihan said, looking down at Leon with a lopsided grin that flashed a very sharp fang at him. “About dragapult.” When Leon merely blinked up at him, Raihan shrugged. “Dreepies are _hard_ to raise. Besides the fact they magically multiply when they evolve and you take your eyes off them for a moment, it takes a special kind of person to handle that type mix. I mean, I knew you were good with ghosts, because of aegislash, but Delilah always said I should have given you a jangmo-o instead.” 

Leon blinked. 

“I would have tried my best, with a jangmo-o,” he said, and then gave Raihan a small smile. “But I’m really glad you chose dreepy instead. I can’t imagine my team without dragapult in it, now.” He licked his lips. “Or without haxorus, really,” he added, carefully not looking at Raihan’s face as he said it. “Ghosts have always been something I’m good at, but… I feel I had to learn dragons, just to keep up with you, Rai.” 

“Wording it like that makes it sound like you’re anything less than a fully fledged dragon trainer, y’know?” Raihan teased, finally pulling away as they entered the waiting room. “I’d expect nothing less from my rival, after all.” 

Leon couldn’t help but preen a little. 

“Got a bigger team to choose from, now,” he pointed out, grinning wide, “gotta keep you on your toes for a good while longer, still.” 

“Oh, we’ll see, we’ll see,” Raihan laughed, “don’t make me keep you humble, Lee.” 

Honestly, Leon couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. 

Well. 

Almost. 

* * *

After their battle, Raihan had excused himself and told Leon he had a few errands to run. Though he was slightly disappointed that they didn’t get to enjoy lunch together, Leon told himself to stop being clingy and ridiculous, and instead went on a few errands of his own. Dealing with the whole Stow-on-Side Gym situation had definitely thrown a wrench on his usual routine, and he figured if he was going to potentially disrupt it forever, he might as well do it then. He wasn’t so viscerally angry anymore – that was a lie, he was still angry, he had the sinking feeling he was going to be angry about it for approximately two eternities and a half, but at least he could see through the haze and actually function like a human being – and he could focus on things that weren’t the sick feeling in the back of his throat. He felt like he was in as good a place as he was ever going to be, to stop procrastinating and refocus on what mattered most. 

Namely, telling Raihan how he felt and stop hoarding anxiety over it. 

He was going to tell him in the morning, and nothing short of another stupid apocalypse in the making – knock on wood – was going to stop him. To keep himself busy in the meantime, now that he’d declared the countdown going, and of course, summoned every gram of anxiety hiding in his bones, Leon decided he was going to learn how to bake muffins. He wasn’t particularly big on them – he wasn’t particularly big on the overly sweet breakfast foods that Raihan was, in general – but he reckoned they would be a good compliment to his plan, which so far included two steps: tell Raihan how he felt and brace for whatever Raihan’s reaction was. 

Leon reckoned, if Raihan felt the same way he did – and he couldn’t stop hoping, black hole stuck somewhere under his lungs, made of sheer _wanting_ – they could eat muffins and celebrate while they went about redefining their relationship. If Raihan didn’t feel the same way he did, at least he’d have sugar to temper the inevitable disappointment and truly get that self-loathing going properly. 

It was a win-win scenario, really, except for the part where he’d be miserable if it failed. But he wasn’t about to start sweating the details. After all, he was too busy learning how to bake muffins to do that. 

It’d be fine. 

Raihan came home really late, though he didn’t offer any explanation of where he’d been all day. Leon reminded himself he really had no reason why to expect such a thing, much less any right to be annoyed by it. He ended up turning in early for the night, mostly because he was tired of fretting and being irritated at himself, and the little countdown in the back of his head was very likely going to drive him mad if he kept thinking about it. 

So sleep it was. 

* * *

Leon watched Raihan stir sugar into his coffee and counted to fifty. 

It was a solid number, fifty – not at solid as 353, but he didn’t have the patience for _that_ – and definitely long enough for Raihan to work his way through at least half his coffee and wake up properly. Leon swallowed hard and turned off the hub because _he_ didn’t think sugar was the most important part of breakfast. 

“I’m in love with you,” Leon said, looking over his shoulder just in time to watch Raihan choke on his muffin, flail in place, spill his coffee into himself and then flail his way down as he unceremoniously fell off the stool. 

“Rai!” Leon called out, vaguely horrified and a little impressed at how _badly_ he’d managed to fuck things up in five words. He reached out to help Raihan back upright. “I’m so sorry, I was just-“ 

“ _What_.” 

Leon hadn’t wanted to be so close to him, when he explained himself. Distance was nice, after all, it kept things in perspective. He knew he was shit at handling things from up close. And yet, there he was, right in Raihan’s space, with little more than the spatula in his hand to keep them apart. 

Leon felt his face _burn_ like charizard’s wings when she gigantamaxed in a Stadium. 

“Look, I’ve been thinking about it for a long while, and, it’s really dishonest of me to not tell you how I feel,” he said, licking his lips and studiously not looking at Raihan in the eye. “It’s okay if you don’t feel that way, please don’t think you have to… humor me or my feelings.” So far, so good. Succinct and honest and to the point. So of course he had to start rambling like an idiot, and despite the panicked twitch in his gut, he couldn’t just make himself _shut up._ “It’s just… you’re my best friend and my greatest rival and I really do love you. It’s… cowardly of me, to pretend I don’t and… I understand if you don’t feel that way. I just… I need you to know. That’s all.” 

“Lee–“ 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel that way,” Leon insisted, hands trying to scrunch up the spatula the same way he did a hat when he needed to fiddle with something. “I can deal with my feelings on my own, and if… hell, if you think I should move out, I will.” Leon swallowed hard, throat dry like a sandstorm. “I just… Mum said honesty was the best policy, but I was just procrastinating on it, and then I realized I was being cowardly about it. So!” He offered a very shaky smile. “Yeah. I love you.” 

Leon swallowed hard when Raihan reached out to hold his face in his hands, he couldn’t even flinch, really, instead basking in the gentleness of the gesture. Raihan held his face with the exact same delicate care he held his baby pokemon, like Leon was somehow worthy of that level of care. There was a moment of hesitation, a slight pause as Raihan stared down at him, and Leon contemplated the very real possibility that he was going to squirm himself to death, right there and there, but then Raihan leaned in and kissed him. 

It was a very small thing, really, just a brush of lips, but it somehow left Leon boneless where he stood, hands unable to hold onto anything, as demonstrated by the spatula hitting the ground with an unearthly loud clatter. 

Raihan licked his lips as he pulled back, eyes intense and half lidded, focusing all his attention on Leon. 

“Yeah?” he asked, and his thumb brushed against Leon’s lips, almost like an invitation. “Lee?” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“Yeah.” 

Still, he tried his best, he really did, but it just. It boiled over, almost all at once. Raihan had told him once, teasing and not trying to be mean, that he could be _a lot_. Leon knew it was true, and he tried his best to keep it under wraps, he really did. Raihan kissed him again and Leon felt static and warmth raise up and cloud his mind entirely, even as he clung a bit too hard. A bit _too much_. 

The fact Raihan melted into the touch, moaning and holding him close, kissing back, it wasn’t exactly discouraging. And maybe, Leon thought, feeling the edge of Raihan’s fangs with his tongue and discovering a whole new _universe_ of sensations cascading from that, it was okay. He kept pressing a bit harder every time, feeling out the boundaries in each touch, inching his way closer. Raihan kept yielding, kept kissing back, like he suddenly couldn’t fill up his lungs, if the air for it didn’t come out of Leon’s mouth. 

It was _new_ and terrifying and Leon didn’t want it to ever stop. 

“Wait, wait,” Raihan whispered, hoarse and panting for breath, words pressed into the corner of Leon’s mouth. “Keep that up and I’m not going to be able to stop, Lee.” 

The sensible thing, of course, would be to stop. The sensible thing would be what Leon figured this conversation was going to entitle: an actual conversation and maybe some boundaries and maybe, if he was lucky, maybe, a kiss. But it was Raihan who upset his careful setup. It was Raihan who kissed him and held him and taught him how it felt to have someone moaning into his mouth, when he touched him the right way. 

Leon licked his lips and found they tingled when he did. 

“But I don’t want you to stop, Rai.” 

Because he didn’t. And it was a bit scary, yeah – it was _fucking terrifying, full stop_ , but he wanted more anyway – but he wasn’t Champion anymore. He wasn’t a pedestal to be preserved. 

Raihan swallowed hard. 

“We’re not doing this _here_ ,” he said, and he sounded out of breath, for all his eyes were narrowed and intense and giving Leon the kind of look he didn’t know he’d always wanted to receive from him. “Got a perfectly comfortable bed upstairs.” 

“The stairs, though,” Leon said, only half-teasing, pretending really hard he wasn’t shaking a little, that he wasn’t a little bit worried that stairs were a bit out of the scope of things his knees were willing to deal with. 

“God, I love you so much,” Raihan blurted out, laughing and leaning in to kiss him again, and Leon let him, dutifully clinging back, right up until Raihan knocked him clear off his feet, hands hooked on his knees, and Leon let out a sound not unlike a squeak of surprise when he found himself clinging to Raihan and feet very definitely not touching the ground. “Bed, yeah?” 

“In light of the compelling argument,” Leon said, nervous, thrilled little laughter caught in his throat as he dropped his head onto Raihan’s shoulder, “yeah.” He swallowed hard. “Bed sounds _great_.” 

* * *

Sex was a hilarious, awkward mess. 

Leon watched Raihan shudder each breath into his shoulder, skin breaking into goosebumps right before his eyes as he stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, and Leon stumbled upon the terrible realization he was probably addicted to it already. He looked forward to the inevitable exploration of all the ways his anxiety was going to fuck him over with that, he really did, it’d be worth it. Raihan kept touching him and Leon kept escalating, and he got the distinct feeling they’d rushed over a few middle steps, maybe, that they could have stopped or lingered or been more graceful about the whole thing. He didn’t care, though. He liked the way Raihan looked at him, the mixture of intent and intense, that resulted in the first time in his life that Leon had been put under scrutiny and he hadn’t freaked out about it. 

It hadn’t taken altogether too much to convince Raihan to bite, and bite him in far more places than he’d originally thought one could get bitten. Each and every single one of them tingled in time with his breathing, and each and every single one of them made him want to squirm and get a few more. 

Leon leaned in and pressed his mouth to Raihan’s, less desperate, maybe. Just a bit. He shifted until he was pressed against him all over again. 

“Good, mm?” Raihan asked, giving Leon a very complacent smile. 

It was. Had been. It wasn’t like he knew what he was doing, Leon reckoned with a mental shrug, but he was definitely in for seconds. Leon tilted his head and pressed a kiss to the underside of Raihan’s jaw, blindly trying to find the same place Raihan had bit him, because it felt nice. 

But then, he had that urge, still, to escalate and tease and make Raihan smile at him, teeth bared again. 

“I mean, it’s not fair,” Leon said, licking his lips, keenly aware his hair was a knotted, sweaty mess that was going to take about an hour just to tame when they were done… but they weren’t done, just yet. “Firsts are always bests, just by definition.” 

It was a terrible thing, Leon knew, to just _say_ things, for the sake of making Raihan look at him that way. 

But then, he was a terrible person and he promised himself to freak out intensely about it later. 

Later. 

* * *

Raihan snored. 

Leon knew this, had known about this, since the first day he’d moved into the house, waking up bright and early and discovering his friend happened to have a jet engine stuck somewhere in the back of his throat. It wasn’t like he really _minded_ , honestly – hadn’t even made it to the tentative list of things he’d worried about, trying to pin down what he hated the most, about living with Raihan – it was just that he was snoring right into Leon’s shoulder, arms and legs curled around him and keeping him in place with his back against his chest. 

It was wonderful, of course, but Raihan was asleep so that meant it was time for Leon to drown in anxiety over all the conversations they had flat out skipped over before getting to the part where they rolled around in Raihan’s bed and got playfully competitive in an entirely new context. And he’d enjoyed the sex, undoubtedly. He’d enjoyed it enough, a snide little voice in the back of his head pointed out there was a reason he’d been explicitly barred from it, but it was the line of thought that always tried to justify everything Rose had ever said and done, and Leon was a lot less willing to entertain it, now, since he was still pretty furious about his team and the decisions Rose had bullied him into. And those were only the ones he’d consciously realized he’d been manipulated about, he had a sinking feeling there was going to be a lot more to unpack and get angry about, if he went digging. He was at capacity dealing with Rose’s bullshit, though, so he hadn’t yet. Wasn’t sure he was ever going to, even. 

He almost wished the unease he felt was about Rose, though. At least that he could ignore and shove away into a corner of his mind and know he was doing the right thing by challenging it. Now he was stuck worrying that he might have given Raihan the wrong impression, that all he wanted was to add sex to their rivalry. He’d said the words – Raihan had _said them right back at him,_ playful and teasing and Leon was going to drive himself insane wondering if he’d meant them or not, until he asked him – but he still had another two million of them stuck bubbling in the back of his throat, pressing hard against the back of his teeth. 

It was a really good freak out, Leon thought somewhat cynically, considering he missed the fact Raihan stopped snoring eventually, and nearly startled out of his skin when Raihan leaned in to press a kiss to his shoulder, right above a bright red imprint of his teeth. 

“Hi,” he said, voice low and rumbly in a way that made all of Leon’s insides writhe under his skin. “Sorry about that,” he added, smile borderline smug, but not mean, “wore me out a bit there, huh.” 

Leon turned around in the hold, just enough he could press his mouth to Raihan’s. 

“I love you,” he blurted out, because it was the truth, and he needed Raihan to understand that. 

Raihan licked his lips. 

“I’m never going to get tired to hear you say that,” he said, pressing smaller, teasing kisses along Leon’s jaw, lips tickling against his beard. “I love you too.” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted, “or what happens next.” 

“Whatever you want,” Raihan said easily, one arm curling around Leon’s back and pulling him closer, tucking him against his side. “I’m up for it.” 

Leon found himself at loss for what to say. He had a lot of things to say but none of them seemed important, considering Raihan was playing with the tips of his hair, not upsetting the tangled mess, and all he wanted to do was maybe melt into his side and never surface again. 

“You asked your mum on advice for this,” Raihan said, almost as if he’d just remembered what Leon had said in his stupid, stupid rambling, more amused than anything. Leon felt his face burn and curled up slightly, pressing himself further into Raihan’s chest. “Lee.” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“Look,” he said, trying to sound reasonable, “I was under a lot of stress, fighting off an identity crisis and probably having something of a meltdown,” he summarized, shifting until he had one arm wrapped around Raihan’s waist, holding himself in place. “I had a bit of a cry in the kitchen, so Mum made me tea and told me to move in with you.” 

That was… the rough series of events, yes. There had been rather more crying and a lot more internal screaming, but Leon was in the habit to not publicize how much of his days was really spent melting down in a corner. It was bad for morale. 

“Seriously?” Raihan asked, nudging Leon up slightly so he take a look at his face. 

Leon shrugged and looked at the shape of _his_ teeth painted on the underside of Raihan’s jaw, and wondered if Raihan liked it as much as Leon did, the biting, considering his teeth were nowhere near as sharp. 

Then he told himself to stop derailing, and swallowed hard again. 

“She said living with you would let me know if it was just a crush or something else,” he admitted, licking his lips. “And it did, so there!” 

Raihan was looking at him with that soft amusement that Leon had been craving since he first realized it existed. And it was right there, amused and warm and _his_ , washing over him with every breath. 

“I want us to work out, Rai,” Leon said, voice about as small as he felt, nerves and all. 

“I mean, how couldn’t we, Lee,” Raihan teased, leaning in to press his lips to the corner of Leon’s jaw, but it wasn’t mean. It wasn’t dismissive, but reassuring, and Leon clung and knew he was clinging and couldn’t bring himself to stop. “We’re the best at everything. It’s our thing.” 

Leon was terrified by how much he wanted to believe it. 

* * *

Despite the fact Raihan really meant it, when he said he was up for whatever Leon wanted, that didn’t exactly address the part where Leon wasn’t _sure_ what he wanted. 

Not in specifics, at least; he wanted to _be_ with Raihan and he knew it, he just wasn’t sure what that _meant_ , sometimes, when it came to their daily grind. 

Sure, he’d asked Raihan if they were dating, and Raihan had enthusiastically agreed, and when he’d asked if Raihan wanted to keep it a secret, Raihan had turned it around and asked if Leon wanted to hide it. They’d ended up taking a selfie and smiled at the camera and part of Leon’s irrational jealousy was instantly appeased by the notion of letting the world know, once Raihan published it and it became his most popular picture to date. Their lunches became dates, and Raihan called them dates and held hands with Leon while they walked around Hammerlocke and made no effort whatsoever to pretend Leon was anything other than his boyfriend. Some days, after dinner, instead of sitting – cuddling – on the couch and watching a movie or a rerun of old championships, Leon asked Raihan to go upstairs, and they had sex instead. It was still mostly an awkward, hilarious mess, and Leon loved every second of it, but specially the part where Raihan fell asleep on him, and… well, he just had to stay. 

He still hadn’t figured out how to ask Raihan if he could sleep in his bed, even if they didn’t have sex, because he didn’t know how to phrase it in a way that didn’t imply something he didn’t mean. Granted, Raihan had a tendency to grasp his meaning even when Leon was being very bad in his attempts to communicate it, but it wasn’t fair to just _expect_ him to know. So there were still nights where Leon went to the gym – the people’s gym, not Raihan’s – and worked out until he was sore, and by the time he came out of the shower, he always lingered in the corridor, tempted to go slide into Raihan’s bed, but eventually always ended up going back to his own bed in the guest room. 

He told himself he didn’t have to rush, they had time to figure out the nuances of things. He had the rest of his life to get it right, it would be fine. 

They were fine. 

Then one night, Leon woke up at the sound of the front door slamming shut. He stared at the ceiling as he heard loud, uncaring steps thump their way up the stairs and sucked in a surprised breath when the door to his room flung open. 

It was Piers. 

"Uh," Leon said, blinking awkwardly as he watched him drop a bag on the floor and start taking off his jacket. "I-" 

"Can we not?" Piers said, tugging his shirt off in a display Leon found rather fascinating if only because Piers' hair had _volume_ and he wouldn't have thought it possible for it to fit through the rather narrow neckline of his shirt. "I haven't slept in three days, I'm sure this pearl clutching can wait til morning." 

"It _is_ morning," Leon pointed out, almost without thinking. 

"Shut up," Piers commanded, and then crawled his way into the unoccupied half of Leon's bed. 

"Okay," Leon replied, because what else was he supposed to say? 

Shit. 


	4. palette of rage

In the end, Leon ended up sleeping on the couch downstairs. 

It wasn’t great, to be honest, and he still woke up at five, somewhat irritated at the lack of sleep. Then he realized if he wanted clothes he’d have to go back into the room and possibly wake Piers up. Leon wasn’t the kind of person who barged in on someone else and woke them up just like that, though. 

‘cause, y’know. 

That’d be rude. 

He took his mug of tea and went to sit outside, on the little concrete lip that separated the yard and the small corridor outside. It wasn’t a very tall lip, so Leon ended up with his knees somewhere level with his chin, but it suited him just fine, as far as sulking went. 

And he was sulking, of course. He could admit that, just like he could indulge in it, while there was no one there to see it. Well, no one but his and Raihan’s pokemon, milling about and starting their day, but it wasn’t like they knew he was sulking – oh, his knew, they always did, feeling out the echoes of his emotions in a way that made Leon wonder if he wasn’t just outright broadcasting them at them – so it was fine. 

It was fine. 

Piers was Raihan’s best friend in the world, sure, but they weren’t dating. Leon and Raihan were. He had absolutely no reason to feel jealous about it, except for the part where he wanted to know everything Piers knew about Raihan. And it was irrational, he knew. And he’d never act on it, he knew. But it was still there, stuck somewhere under his lungs, dragging him down with each breath. So, he sulked into his tea and hoped the feeling would be gone by the time either of them woke up. 

It occurred to him, as mimikyu slithered its way between his legs and flopped on his feet, that maybe Raihan felt the same way, about Sonia. After all, Sonia had known him all his life, had known every shape and permutation of him that he’d ever come up with. There were things about him that Sonia knew, that Leon would never be able to share with someone else, if nothing else because the moment had passed and the emotions had faded or he’d just straight up forgotten. 

It was the same thing with Piers, really, and didn’t it seem silly to be jealous, when looking at it that way? 

All that really mattered was that Piers was important to Raihan, and that meant he was important to Leon as well. They might never be close, but they could be friends. Amicable, at the very least. And while Piers was very… different from the kind of people Leon was used to dealing with – dark humor and taunting smiles and a habit to say things just to rile people up, seemingly enjoying how uncomfortable he made him – that didn’t mean he was a bad person. He was Raihan’s friend, after all. 

…it would be so much easier if he were, which was a terrible thing to think of, but also a recurrent thought whenever Leon found himself thinking about Piers. It would just be easier if he could dislike him, but then, he’d have to know him first, for that to work. And then he was back to the start of that cycle, wondering if they could be friends, instead. 

Sometimes, when it was early enough no one but his pokemon were awake yet and the sky was still dark, a stray star or two still shining on, Leon wondered what it would be like, to have a brain that didn’t personally hate him quite as viscerally as his own did. 

He wished he could live life with the same clarity of thought he fought during battles: the clear, crisp path between realization, decision and action. Pokemon battles were easy, had always been easy for him: it was a game of numbers, beneath the spectacle. A measurable, understandable game; if you peeled back everything, types and abilities and move sets, it all boiled down to who had the attack that dealt enough damage to break through the opposing defense. Life… wasn’t that. There was no such thing as a win condition, in life. There were far too many variables to consider, in life, to make the kind of quick assessment that determined each move choice in a pokemon battle. And, there was such a terrible capacity to do harm, in life. 

No one really got hurt, in pokemon battles. Not long term, not for real. Nothing a quick trip to the pokemon center and maybe a bit of sulking couldn’t fix. But if he said the wrong thing, if he made the wrong choice, lives were ruined. Lives of perfectly innocent people, people whose names he didn’t even know, who probably didn’t themselves know he held their fates in his hands. And that had been before, when all he’d had was that thing Rose liked to call soft power, where he had no real say in things, but people followed him because he was their Champion and they thought anything he chose to do or say was the right thing to do or say. Then Rose was gone, and he’d been given real power, forced to step up because no one else would, and then… then he’d learned how much his brain really hated him. 

Or maybe it was for the best, maybe it only felt like hate because it hurt so bad, but it was doing him a favor in the long run, fixating so hard in every single possible bad outcome to any and all his choices. Maybe it was okay for him to fret so much, if only for all the truly terrible choices he’d avoided that way. 

But he wasn’t Champion, anymore. 

He wasn’t Chairman. 

He was free. The most important thing he decided on a daily basis was what to cook for dinner and what terrible pun he was going to serve Raihan along with it. His brain hadn’t gotten the memo, though. His brain still fixated on every little thing, fussing and worrying and making him miserable if he didn’t force himself to ignore it. 

Leon nearly startled out of his bones, as he felt Raihan lean on him, arms around his neck and knees at each side of his hips. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, burying the words into the side of his face. “I forgot to tell you he has keys.” 

Leon choked on a soft laugh, leaning back easily into Raihan’s arms, because that was his favorite place in the world, since he’d discovered it was available to him pretty much always. 

“It’s okay,” Leon said, and tilted his head back to press his mouth on Raihan’s cheek. 

“It super isn’t,” Raihan retorted, face turning just enough to catch Leon’s mouth in his in one of those slow, lazy kisses that he indulged in just because he could. The main difference between them, Leon reckoned as they parted, eyes half lidded and expression probably some variation of dumbstruck smile, was that Raihan didn’t lose his train of thought, after each time they kissed. “Either you slept in bed with him, which, I’m gonna be honest, I’m not okay with, considering you won’t sleep in my bed-“ 

“I would,” Leon blurted out without thinking, and then felt his face burn when Raihan stopped just for a second, looking at him with interest. 

“Or,” Raihan went on, stretching the vowel sound teasingly, “you let him have the bed and either didn’t sleep at all or crashed the couch, neither of which is okay.” He pressed another kiss to the edge of Leon’s jaw. “I’m sorry, my best friend is a feral fucking grimmsnarl in human form and I forgot to tell you he has keys to the house.” 

Leon snorted. 

“He’s not a feral grimmsnarl,” he said, relaxing further into Raihan’s arms and then reaching to take another sip of his, by now, utterly cold tea. “Zigzagoon, maybe,” he muttered into the rim of the mug, as the only concession to the petty corner of his mind that was still maybe a little annoyed at Piers. 

Raihan sank his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, hard enough Leon knew there was going to be a bruise there, when he was done, but not hard enough to hurt. He melted a bit more into Raihan’s hold, definitely basking. Raihan liked to bite, and Leon liked to see those bites on his skin. He liked to finger them, when he was being stupid and his brain insisted on going on jealous little tangents. 

“You don’t have to,” Raihan said, after a while, pressing a kiss to Leon’s shoulder and then nuzzling against his throat, pulling him even closer. “Move into my room, I mean. You can, if you want, but it’s okay if you want space.” 

“I’m a lot,” Leon replied with a little shrug, shifting the mug into one hand so he had a free one to grab one of Raihan’s, fingers entwining. “I know I’m a lot. I just… didn’t want to be too much.” 

“Admirable sentiment, really,” Raihan said, tone teasing as he leaned in to press his lips to Leon’s cheek, “but you forgot the bit where I can never get enough of you.” 

They were dating – had been dating for close to a month now – and they’d had sex, and they were living together, and Raihan in particular was liberal with his feelings, never even the smallest bit ashamed to let Leon know what they were. Leon figured he should be used to that, but he still flustered, sometimes. All the time. 

“I wake up at five in the morning, you know,” Leon said, at loss of how to respond to that, besides the fact his face was flushed and he didn’t know if he could look at Raihan in the eye right there and then. “Even on Sundays.” 

“I know,” Raihan laughed, and pressed another kiss to Leon’s face, clearly amused. “I’m thinking you might need an incentive, to learn to appreciate the art of sleeping in.” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“What kind of incentive?” 

Raihan’s voice did that thing, sometimes, when he was teasing and he wanted Leon to melt, where it turned into a taunting drawl. 

“Why don’t you come upstairs and find out?” 

* * *

It was well past noon, when Piers finally made his way downstairs. 

Leon was in the process of fixing them a very late breakfast, considering how sidetracked they’d gotten, and Raihan was sitting in the yard, patiently polishing duralodon. His first thought, rather uncharitable at that, was Piers looked like he’d been electrocuted in one those old timey cartoons that his Nan liked to watch. His hair was just… everywhere, gnarled ropes thick and messy, but somehow not heavy. At least, given the way Piers moved, they didn’t seem to be. It was a bit fascinating to watch, to be honest. 

“There a way I can con you into sharing that coffee?” Piers asked, standing by the doorway and giving Leon a look with frankly rude levels of suspicion. 

“You could ask nicely,” Leon suggested, one eyebrow arched. 

“Pff,” Piers scoffed, looking unamused. “Time for the pearl clutching, huh, Princess?” 

Leon found himself spluttering. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying for diplomatic and sort of failing miserably, “I’m not used to people just letting themselves into my bed.” 

“My bed,” Piers corrected, scratching his side with a shrug. “I’ve got tenure, mate.” 

Leon opened his mouth to reply, found he had nothing to reply with, and then was saved from having to admit defeat by the fact Raihan threw the rag he was using to polish duralodon straight at Piers’ face. 

“Stop picking on my boyfriend, Piers,” Raihan said, walking back inside with his hands on his hips. “He’s nice, jackass.” 

“I mean, he’s dating you,” Piers laughed, pulling the rag off his face, eyes dancing with amusement, “he’s basically a saint.” 

Leon looked between them, a bit lost on how to handle the sort of abrasive affection they were clearly exchanging along with the name-calling, and then gathered aplomb. 

“…so how do you like your coffee, Piers?” He asked, pulling out a mug out of the cabinet above – a black mug, not because he wanted to stereotype or anything, but he had a hunch Piers maybe wasn’t going to want any of Raihan’s trapinch or goomy themed ones. “Black?” 

“…got any condensed milk around?” Piers asked, tone a bit more hesitant, somewhat less aggressive. 

Leon blinked, and nodded, before pulling a can out of the pantry. 

“Good man,” Piers sighed contently, grabbing the can and then promptly dumping half of into his mug. 

Raihan ambled over to stand next to Leon, one arm sliding easily around his shoulders as they watched Piers chug back the syrup in his mug. 

“So,” he asked, eyes glinting, “what happened? I thought I’d be lucky to see your face again before winter tour started.” 

Piers sighed, holding the mug in his hands and staring at it almost forlornly. 

“I’m asexual,” he declared, staring at them with a tired, blank look. 

“Right,” Leon said, not quite sure what that had to do with anything. 

“My sister is explicitly very much not,” Piers went on, looking haunted. 

Leon stared in horrified sympathy at him, even though Raihan seemed to miss it entirely, because he said: 

“…yeah?” He tilted his head to the side. “And?” 

“I am so sorry,” Leon said, before Piers could tell Raihan exactly what he meant. “Do you want some whiskey for your coffee?” 

Raihan spluttered. 

“Top me off, Princess,” Piers replied, solemnly offering the mug back to Leon. 

“Am I missing something?” Raihan asked, blinking at them both as Leon dutifully pulled the bottle from the cabinet under the sink and served him what seemed like a reasonable I walked in on my sibling having sex amount. 

“Always,” Piers deadpanned, “don’t worry your pretty head about it.” He saluted Leon with the mug once it was back in his hand. “We’re trauma-bonding.” 

“Nothing like shared horror and nightmares untold,” Leon chirped back, amused at the look on Raihan’s face, “to bring people together.” 

“You know, I’ve always hoped you two would get along,” Raihan said, looking dubious, “but I think I just got mankey pawed.” 

Piers gave Raihan a long look and then turned to Leon, one eyebrow arched. 

“Apropos of nothing, did you know there’s a shop in the Hoenn international airport that has an entire bin the size of a small rhyhorn full of pokemon toys with your face on them?” Leon froze as Piers snickered at him. “They’re labeled Champion Time Fun, and the owner of the shop got the shipment by mistake some… three years ago, I think? But no one knows who you are in Hoenn, so no one wants to buy shit with your face on it, which… I don’t know why people who do know who you are want to buy shit with your face on it either, but I don’t handle my own merchandizing so I hope I never have to find out.” Piers shrugged. “Anyway, this poor fucker has been trying to con people into buying this shit for years now, and when I told him I wanted all of them he burst out crying and bought me dinner.” Piers grinned at Raihan. “So that’s your souvenir from my trip to Alola: seven thousand pokemon toys with your boyfriend’s dumb face on each and every single one of them, bought in the tourist trap section of the airport in the region that I didn’t actually stay in.” He looked inordinately proud of himself. “They should be arriving next month, because customs.” 

Leon choked on a flustered noise as Piers cackled like a mightyena when Raihan snatched the whiskey bottle from the counter and took a swing from it. 

“Just how much money did you waste on that?” Raihan groused, making a face as he put the bottle back down. 

“What are you talking about? It was a long-term investment,” Piers snorted, eyebrows arched, “I just bought you seven thousand birthday presents, I’m never buying you shit again for as long as I live.” 

“You keep saying seven thousand,” Leon interrupted, squinting, “but it’s not… actually seven thousand of the things, right?” 

Because he had a feeling he knew exactly what kind of pokemon toy Piers had found, and Leon was not entirely sure seven thousand of the cursed things would even fit inside the yard. 

“Oh, no, it’s definitely seven thousand,” Piers retorted, moving over to refill his mug with equal amounts coffee, condensed milk and whiskey. “We counted. And I had to file a stack of paperwork this big,” he added, gesturing with his hands at least six inches, “on the way back into Galar. Fuck, it was more paperwork than hydreigon.” 

Raihan choked on spit and snatched the bottle of whiskey again. 

“You’ve got a hydreigon?” Leon asked, surprised. 

“Yup,” Piers said, staring at Raihan pointedly, “caught him in Alola, while I was visiting my Dad.” He gave Leon a challenging look. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Leon shrugged, embarrassed. “I just… I’m surprised, that’s all. I figured, you and Raihan being so close, you’d have… gotten your dragon from Hammerlocke directly.” 

Piers shrugged and made to kick Raihan, who’d gone back for a third swing of the whiskey bottle, which was probably not wise considering he was not great at drinking liquor harder than beer, in Leon’s experience. 

“Raihan’s dragon lectures are for nerds,” Piers said mockingly, “I’m a man of action.” 

Leon felt himself getting irritated by Piers’ dismissals of Raihan all over again. 

“I find them very educational,” he said, frowning, “and his work at Hammerlocke is very important, considering how-“ 

“Hop off his dick, Princess,” Piers deadpanned, one eyebrow arched, “it’s a joke.” 

“Eat my entire ass, Piers,” Raihan snapped hoarsely, reaching out to pull Leon against his side. “And stop picking fights with my boyfriend.” 

Piers arched an eyebrow, expression smug. Leon could tell a conversation was happening, literally right above his head, as Raihan scowled back, eyes narrowing by degrees. Piers tilted his head to the side every so slightly and Raihan pulled Leon closer, still, without words. 

It was vaguely infuriating. 

“Should I finish breakfast?” Leon asked, trying and failing to keep a slight pout off his voice, “or are we just going straight to spending the day drinking and snarking?” 

“You of all people should know whiskey and snark is the breakfast of champions,” Piers snorted, eyebrows arched challengingly. “Or is it too soon to make that joke?” 

Leon scoffed. 

“Yeah, you can fry your own bacon, just for that.” 

Maddeningly, Piers laughed. 

* * *

In the end, they passed most of the day drinking and snarking, though Leon did finish cooking breakfast – at three in the afternoon, but it was eggs and bacon, so that counted as breakfast – and he absolutely made Piers fry his own bacon – which he knew how to do and was annoyingly actually good at, it turned out, so it wasn’t exactly an inconvenience for him. 

Leon spent most of it curled up under Raihan’s arm, offering one or two spluttering remarks whenever Piers’ flung a taunt his way, but mostly just listening to him and Raihan talk about his trip to Alola and how annoying his dad was. It was nice, right up until it wasn’t, either because Raihan and Piers went on stupid wordless conversations and Leon felt left out, or because Piers was picking on him and Leon didn’t know how to retort properly. 

He just wasn’t well equipped to deal with the particular flavor of mean that Piers favored. Leon knew how to deal with problem people, and how to make them stop. He knew how to put boundaries and enforce them and not feel bad about it. But Piers wasn’t that kind of mean. It was the playful sort of terrible, like uncensored commentary and jokes that chaffed, that he realized Raihan enjoyed and took for friendship. 

He’d never had a friend like that, though. 

Sonia could be stubborn, sure, but she wasn’t mean. She had every tool at her disposal to make Leon miserable, in any number of ways, but Leon never worried about it, because that just wasn’t who she was, as a person. He could call her and tell her bad puns, and she’d hung up and then call back twenty minutes later to tell him an even worse one. And Raihan was his friend, but he was also his boyfriend, and either way, he was never mean. Raihan called him out when he needed it, always, but he was never hurtful and he didn’t enjoy making him squirm – well, he did, but no the same way Piers did, because Piers was asexual and Leon was definitely not interested in him in any way that resembled that kind of squirming. There was Gloria, sure, but she was fifteen years his junior and he wasn’t desperate enough to go looking for friendship from a teenager, even if it was a teenager whose skill in pokemon battles he respected and admired. 

And everyone else… everyone else he did not consider a friend. Not really. Coworkers and acquaintances, sure, and he tried his best to leave a good impression and be nice to work with, but that was it. 

Piers was the sort of person that Leon had been purposefully kept away from, ever since he’d become Champion. Piers was a walking PR nightmare, and even if he didn’t care, Leon couldn’t help but notice, after so many years trained to spot and avoid that sort of thing. Piers was blunt and unrepentant and very prone to speaking his mind, which all sounded like very admirable traits to Leon. In theory. Right up until he had to spend time with him, and it turned out his mind, which he didn’t mind speaking up, was often the kind of snide, taunting sort that delighted in making people splutter and feel defensive. 

Raihan was passed out on the couch and Leon had no hopes of moving him at all, considering he had baby dragons – who weren’t quite as small anymore, now – sprawled on him, using him for a nest. Leon picked up plates and glasses strewn around the living room and took them back to the kitchen, though he had to admit he was walking very slowly and very carefully, given how drunk he was. He saw Piers sitting on the edge of the same concrete lip he’d sat on in the morning, hair sprawled around him like a living thing, as he fussed to light up a cigarette, and he made a conscious choice to not fight baby pokemon for the privilege of lying on his boyfriend to sleep off his hangover. 

Instead, he grabbed the ashtray tucked under the TV – the ashtray he’d always wondered the purpose of, considering Raihan didn’t smoke at all – and slowly swayed his way outside, to sit with him. 

Because even if he was kind of a dick on an almost compulsive level, even if he grinned when he made Leon splutter and even if he loved railing up Raihan until he threw a playful kick at him and threatened to throw him headfirst into the pond in the yard… even if he still wasn’t sure he liked him, Leon was sure he wanted to try. 

“So!” Piers said, watching as Leon gingerly let himself down on the ground, putting the ashtray between them, though he kept his distance. “Been a month now, give or take, since you started dating, huh. Looking pretty serious and all, from where I’m standing.” 

Leon buried his face in his hands. 

“Are you gonna shovel talk me?” He asked in disbelief, groaning when Piers laughed. “Seriously?” 

“Unfortunately for you,” Piers said, blowing a ring of smoke above their heads, “my baby sister is dating the asshole with the literal legendary pokemon squad, so you are the significantly less daunting shovel talk I’ll be delivering this week.” 

“Gloria is not an asshole,” Leon pointed out, frowning. 

“Yeah, she is,” Piers snorted, “she’s the worst kind of asshole there is, in fact.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s the type to be soft and kind and nice, and then toxic-venoshock combo your entire fucking team before you’re done recovering from the whiplash.” He paused for effect. “But that’s between her and me and the trauma that might legit keep me from sleeping under my own damn roof ever again.” 

Despite it all, Leon choked on a laugh. 

“Alright then,” he said, pulling up his knees against his chest and wrapping his arms around his ankles. “Let me have it then.” 

Piers looked at him from the corner of his eye and then took a long, loud drag of his cigarette. 

“Shit happens,” he said, almost philosophically, “and that’s okay.” He shrugged. “You two assholes deserve each other, anyway.” 

Leon waited a beat or two, and then squinted at him suspiciously. 

“That’s it?” He asked, not sure he trusted the seemingly benign message. 

“That’s it,” Piers said, shrugging again and giving Leon a slight grin around the cigarette in his mouth. 

“That was… surprisingly not threatening,” Leon pointed out, resting his chin on his knees. “I’m almost disappointed, even.” 

Piers rolled his eyes. 

“He loves you, dumbass.” 

Leon snorted, but even so, he couldn’t help the small, pleased smile that tugged at his lips on reflex. 

“I know.” 

“You really don’t,” Piers pointed out, reaching out to tap the ash into the ashtray, and making sure Leon was watching before he rolled his eyes at him. “He loves you,” he insisted, emphasizing the word almost like it was a bad thing. “The worships the ground you walk on, would tear himself to pieces if he thought that’d make you happy, kind of loves you.” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“Oh.” 

Piers shrugged disdainfully. 

“If you fuck that up?” He said, waving the still lit cigarette in Leon’s general direction, “yeah, that’s on you, Princess. You go on living, then, knowing you had that, and then you ruined it.” 

“I won’t,” Leon said, forcefully, eyes narrowed. 

“You’ll try not to, at least,” Piers corrected, and then scoffed with another shrug. “Good enough for me, anyway.” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“I take it back,” he whispered, “that was very threatening.” 

Piers made a peace sign at him, lips twitching into a smirk. 

“I’m good at what I do.” He frowned then, looking up at the sky for a long moment, before he sighed. “You’re not what I expected.” 

Leon squinted at him. 

“What did you expect?” He asked, because it had never occurred to him, much to his own chagrin, that Piers would have any reason to be wary about him in the first place. 

He wasn’t someone people were wary of, in general. He tried his best to be kind and welcoming and the sort of warm that made people relax in his presence. He had it down to a science, really, so the notion that Piers expected something different from him was… fascinating, really. 

Of course the moment passed and Leon found himself snarling on reflex, when Piers rolled his head, cracking his shoulders. 

“Rose, mostly.” Piers snorted at whatever Leon’s face looked like and shook his head. “I know, I know… in my defense you do the same kind of unflinching niceness he did, it sets my teeth on edge on reflex sometimes.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being nice,” Leon pointed out, forcing himself to sound reasonable. 

Piers looked unconvinced. 

“There is when you convince people that nice is the same as good,” he retorted, and then let out another ring of smoke above their heads. “It isn’t. You do the same bullshit thing Rose did, not getting angry. Like you’re too nice to be annoyed or pissed off, and make people think you must be too nice to fuck them up.” 

“Maybe I’m just not an angry person,” Leon snapped, perhaps a bit too sharply. 

Piers was looking at him, in a way that felt almost like he was looking through him. Leon decided, right then and there, that he didn’t like it and would very much like it for Piers to stop. Immediately, if at all possible. 

“Yeah, that’s what trips me,” Piers said, reaching out to put out the last bit of his cigarette in the ashtray. “I can’t see anyone spending as long as you did, under Rose’s slimy, fucking thumb, and not being angry. So… either you are angry, and for some stupid reason you’re not letting yourself be angry, or you’re a fucking sociopath who thinks Rose did nothing wrong so you really have nothing to be angry about, from your time under him.” He arched an eyebrow. “Which one is it?” 

Cornered against the metaphorical wall, point-blanked asked to split things into black and white, Leon found himself baring his teeth on reflex. He didn’t like to split things into black and white like that, without any kind of nuance. Life was complicated, there were many sides to any kind of choice, and binary thinking only ended up getting people hurt, in his experience. There were hard choices that couldn’t be painted either way. Life was messy, and there was always a downside to everything. There were always ripples to consider. 

It wasn’t that Leon didn’t understand why people felt that way, about Rose, why they thought he was a monster that felt no remorse for bulldozing over anyone standing in his way. He knew people hated him, and he knew their feelings were valid. But not everything about Rose had been bad. Not everything about Macro Cosmo was evil. He’d stepped up to take up responsibility as Chairman precisely because he understood that nuance, and because he’d seen with stark clarity the consequences of that mindset. 

Piers had a right to be angry and bitter and hateful, and Leon would never tell him otherwise. But that didn’t mean Leon had to feel the same. It was different, when it came to him. He didn’t get to indulge in the rage like that, because he’d always had a choice. He made his bed and even if he hated it, he had to lie in it and be gracious about it. Piers had been a victim of Rose, but Leon had been a cooperator. He didn’t get to pretend he wasn’t, just because he was angry about the bits and pieces that had chafed at him personally. Sure, Rose had talked him into a good number of choices that were stupid and harmful in retrospect, but he still had made the choice himself. He’d still had a chance to say no, and he never did. 

Someone had to be held accountable for that. 

Someone had to make up for it. 

“Neither,” Leon said, tone clipped and final, but it didn’t have the effect he expected. 

“Ah,” Piers said, tilting his head to the side as his lips tugged into a smile. “Rage it is.” 

“What?” Leon spluttered. “No! I literally just said-“ 

“You’re like Marnie,” Piers went on, heaving himself upright, arms swinging and hair swishing everywhere. “Molotov rages bottled up until they blow. Ain’t healthy, mate. Take it from someone who’s always lived in the periphery of that shit, gotta let it out sometime.” 

“I’m not angry,” Leon snarled, standing up and glaring down at Piers as he did. “There’s nothing for me to be angry about!” 

He regretted it almost instantly. He was taller than Piers and he loomed, he knew, when he moved a certain way. It was stupid to move so aggressively, when he was much bigger than Piers, it came out threatening and mean and wrong. He shrunk back almost at once, raising his hands placatingly, trying to smooth out the outburst. 

Piers’ eyes narrowed, if possible, even more. 

“I’m sorry,” Leon began, forcing his voice soft and conciliatory, “we’re drunk and it’s been a long day, it’s-“ 

“I want a rematch,” Piers said, one hand fiddling with the choker – it looked different, now, somehow, but Leon couldn’t pinpoint why – the other curled comfortably on his hip. 

Leon’s pacifying tirade died in his throat. 

“What.” 

Piers did that thing he did, where he tossed his head back and his hair slithered when he did, graceful and taunting and not something Leon had ever tried to do himself, of course not, mostly because his hair was nowhere near long enough for it to work. Obviously. 

“Back in Postwick, you said you never backed down from a challenge,” Piers said, voice taunting. “So here’s your challenge. I want a rematch, but let’s do it Alola style. Bit of variety, y’know, to keep things interesting.” 

Leon stared. 

“What, now?” He asked, not quite sure where exactly he’d lost control of the conversation and definitely not sure how to regain it. “Right now? Where would we even-“ Piers pointed at the looming Hammerlocke, just beyond the suddenly rather flimsy looking backwall across the yard. “Right.” 

This didn’t immediately seem like a bad idea to Leon. After all, matches needed a proper pitch to fight them. Even if he didn’t want to fight Piers. Though he was right, he did always take on any challengers, regardless. Because that was what the Champion did, had to be accessible and ready to defend his title, at all times. Somehow the fact he wasn’t Champion anymore didn’t seem quite pressing enough to discount the habit. 

“I need to get my team,” Leon said, looking down at himself and realizing he was still wearing the boxers and tank top he’d been wearing after he and Raihan finished fooling around in the shower. Given the obvious lack of pockets, he wasn’t carrying the pokeballs for his team, which of course was scattered around the yard, looking curiously at them both. “Hang on. What are the rules?” 

“Grand Trial style is three on one,” Piers explained, clearly amused as Leon went about stumbling back inside. “I’m the challenger here, so I get one versus your three.” 

Leon frowned, walking back out with a handful of ultraballs in his hands. 

“That’s not very fair.” 

“Fuck fair, it’s fun,” Piers said, smirking smugly at him, “unless you’re scared of losing even with the handicap. I mean, you have been retired for what… a year and change, now?” 

“Just as long as you have,” Leon snapped, again, far more testily than he probably should have, but Piers just had a talent to be infuriating. “So there’s that.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t go around calling myself the undefeatable champion for fifteen years and change,” he replied, laughing, and it was the kind of meanspirited laugh that made Leon uncomfortable in his own skin. “Don’t have your kind of ego, Princess.” 

“It’s not ego,” Leon found himself snarking, frowning as he fiddled with his dynamax band, “I’m just that good.” 

Piers grinned. 

“Oh, you’re something, alright.” 

* * *

It was around five in the afternoon, on an off-season Sunday: Hammerlocke Stadium was closed to the public and most if not all the staff had long gone home. 

That didn’t stop Leon and Piers from flying into the pitch, hydreigon and charizard landing right at the center of it. Leon had a moment of sudden clarity, where he felt small and insignificant standing amidst the crushing emptiness of the stands, and he almost grasped the fact this was a fantastically terrible idea. 

Almost, but not quite. 

Instead he realized Piers was looking challengingly at him, amused at something Leon couldn’t hope to grasp, and it only upset him even more. 

“We don’t have a referee,” Leon pointed out, narrowing his eyes when Piers recalled hydreigon. 

He’d have expected him to use it, considering the clear disadvantage he was putting himself in – and somewhere in the back of his head, Leon reckoned there was something he was missing, in the picture, because Piers was not, by all accounts, the kind of person who threw themselves recklessly into a fight he couldn’t win. 

“It’s a three on one, Princess,” Piers snorted, eyebrows arched, “you won’t need a referee to tell you when your pokemon are out.” And then he snorted. “Or maybe it really has been that long, so you do.” 

“Do you want a match or a pissing contest?” Leon asked, voice raising in volume right along with his annoyance. 

“I’d win either,” Piers retorted, head tilted to the side, “but I’m feeling in the mood to give you a chance, so match it is.” He unhooked a duskball from his belt. “Ready?” 

It was probably his fucking obstagoon, Leon thought viciously, well aware by now that Piers’ partner pokemon was about as annoying as the man himself. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Leon said out loud, reaching up to slap his face a bit and diffuse the fog of alcohol and irritation clouding his thoughts. It was one thing to try and avoid the worst of Piers’ wit outside the pitch, but pokemon battles were something else entirely. Even drunk and angry and stuck trying his best not to be, he knew better. “Charizard!” 

Overkill, maybe, but he wanted this done. 

“So you say,” Piers said, and he was smiling, like facing Leon’s strongest pokemon was exactly what he wanted to do. “Morgana!” 

That wasn’t an obstagoon, Leon thought, frowning as the large, scarred tyranitar landed on the field with a deafening roar that summoned a sandstorm worthy of Raihan’s gigalith. A very familiar and large and scarred tyranitar, at that, he realized, sobering up slightly. He’d fought the thing before, years ago, several times, long before Raihan was strong enough to challenge him in the Championships. 

It had also delivered him his only defeat, during his Gym Challenge, having chewed up and spat out his entire team on his first attempt at claiming Spikemuth’s badge for himself. It had taken him a whole week of training and getting lost in his attempts to conquer Spikemuth Gym’s labyrinth before he eventually prevailed on his second rematch with Piers’ mother. 

It had been monstrous then, and it didn’t look one bit weaker now. 

Shit. 

“Let’s end this,” Leon called out, raising charizard’s ultraball as his dynamax band soaked up power. “Charizard!” 

“Oh, darling, we’ve just started,” Piers replied, raising a hand to touch the choker around his neck. “Alola rules, remember?” 

There was a stone, stuck in the center of the choker, that glowed in tandem with a stone in the collar tyranitar was wearing. As charizard gigantamaxed behind him, Leon stared as tyranitar roared again, swelling in size as the spikes in its body lengthened and grew. Mega evolution, Leon knew, was strictly against Galar League rules, and consequently, he’d never gotten the chance to fight against one. There were a lot of restrictions, in the Galar League rules, which Rose had enforced with fastidious stubbornness. It was one of the many reasons Leon had never gone outside Galar, despite invitations to participate in tournaments with champions from other regions, and why no one really accepted their invitations in return: Galar had rules about what pokemon could and couldn’t be used, and nothing but dynamaxing was allowed. It had created a highly competitive and yet very specialized environment in their league. 

As Chairman, Leon had sort of understood why things worked that way: dynamaxing was tied directly to Galar, it could not be exported to other regions, like mega evolution or Alola’s z-moves were. It was crucial to the identity of the league, and the notion of balancing the rulebook to include the specialties of other regions, when their own wouldn’t be accounted for outside Galar put them at a disadvantage. 

But still, Leon wished there was a different way to handle things, than just straight up forbidding things. 

If Piers were still an active member of the league, he would be instantly disqualified and blacklisted for at least a year, for using mega evolution in a league match. 

Then again, Leon realized, licking his lips, this wasn’t a league match. 

He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes; no time to let his mind wander, he needed his head in the game. 

“Charizard,” Leon commanded, voice sharp, “Max Flare!” 

A G-max Wildfire would be more powerful, Leon knew, but he needed the harsh sunlight to dispel the sandstorm. And if it came to that, and tyranitar somehow survived two more turns, then he’d still have a free solar beam to finish it off. 

“Since he’s being generous, take him up on the free turn, Morgana,” Piers called out, hair whipping wildly around, “dragon dance!” 

Oh, that was bad, Leon thought, watching the tyranitar tank the max flare without even flinching and then roar again as its stats increased significantly. No kill like overkill, then. 

“Max Overgrowth!” Leon called out, eyes narrowed. 

He still didn’t have a good read on the tyranitar’s level, beyond the fact it should be very high, and he wasn’t entirely sure how much did mega evolution really affect its stats. But a super effective move like that should be enough. 

…right? 

Morgana tanked the hit without blinking, and to add insult to injury, shook herself as if basking in the healing residue left behind. 

“Stone edge,” Piers ordered, sounding almost bored. 

Leon stared at the maddening smirk on Piers’ face as the rock columns rose behind him, smothering charizard in place without skipping a beat. 

That was an OHKO, and he didn’t need to look to know it. He didn’t want to look, considering how badly he’d fumbled that first matchup and the fact charizard had ended up paying for it. 

“I did tell you I wanted a match, right?” Piers asked, as charizard collapsed with a pained growl barely audible beneath the echo of the explosion as the dynamaxing ended. “Not a warmup.” 

Leon clutched charizard’s ball in a tight fist before he changed it for the next. He hadn’t thought he’d need a second pokemon, considering he was opening with his strongest ace. Because Piers was being annoying and he’d wanted to put him in his place a little. There were very few things Leon was good at, and he knew it, but pokemon battles were the one thing he excelled at and he didn’t appreciate having that put into question. 

“Dragapult,” Leon said, voice gone quiet because he didn’t need to yell, eyes pinning Piers in place, well aware he out sped tyranitar, even with the dragon dance buff, “draco meteor.” 

He so rarely used that move – he’d never used it in an actual match, only training, mastering it, giving himself another ace in the sleeve to get through anything, but mostly Raihan – because it was overkill and never necessary. But Piers kept smirking at him and Leon could hear the soft, mocking chuckle in the back of his head and he wanted him to shut up. 

“Tsk, I thought you didn’t get angry,” Piers commented, eyebrows arched even as Morgana tanked the hit, head bowing but still keeping upright and ready to battle. “Payback!” 

Leon watched her swing her tail in slow motion, a hit dragapult was too slow to dodge, considering the strain of firing off his own move. Leon did the math in his head just as dragapult was sent flying far back behind him. Predictably, he was unconscious by the time he hit the ground. 

“Maybe you were right,” Piers said, mock-concern coloring his voice, “maybe three on one was unfair. Should we make it five on one? To give you a better chance?” 

“Shut up!” Leon snarled, by now well and truly pissed. 

He didn’t call out for aegislash as it landed in the field, instinctively in shield form, just as Leon needed him to. 

“Earthquake!” Piers’ voice sounded a tad livelier as he gave that order, Leon reckoned, and found himself snarling back a smile as aegislash’ shield form tanked the hit with ease. 

Above them, the harsh sunline was still in play. 

“Solar blade,” Leon hissed, a move he’d only taught aegislash because he’d taught charizard solar beam, back when Sonia’s milotic was the scariest pokemon he’d ever fought and the entirety of his team was optimized to get the best out of hers. 

The last time he’d used it, he realized with slight trepidation, had been against this very tyranitar, the year before its previous owner died. It worked as well now as it had then, Leon noted, almost emotionlessly, watching tyranitar finally collapse under the strain, a weak roar escaping it as it fell down. 

Piers didn’t have the decency to look upset about it, recalling it with an arched eyebrow. 

“Well,” he said, “cut it almost too close there, huh?” 

Leon crossed the pitch in wide, angry strides and reached out to grab Piers’ shirt, pulling him up until his feet were barely touching the ground. 

“What’s _wrong_ with you?” He demanded, blood rushing in his ears and breath coming short as he gave up trying to keep his temper in check entirely. 

“What’s wrong with _you_?” Piers shot back, utterly unfazed by the manhandling. “I thought you didn’t get angry, Princess.” 

Leon froze in place, horrified by the realization that he was very much in the process of literally strangling Piers with his bare hands. He was just that mad. He let Piers go immediately, pulling back his hands as if scalded. Piers had the nerve to dust himself off, looking singularly bored by the whole ordeal. 

“I’m-“ 

“Felt good though, didn’t it?” Piers asked, head tilted back to stare at Leon in the eye. “Getting angry, for once?” 

“That was inappropriate of me,” Leon replied, licking his lips. “I’m not-“ 

“The people who insist you shouldn’t be angry,” Piers interrupted, eyes shrewd and terrible, scrutinizing every tiny scrap of being Leon had left, “are usually the ones who’re gonna give you the most reason to be angry.” When Leon tried to step back, Piers reached out and grabbed a fistful of hair, and the pain of it, as he tugged Leon close, echoed inside his head, making his eyes widen. “If you’re angry and you don’t know why, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be angry. It means you need to look closer.” 

When he released his hold, Leon realized his legs just weren’t in the mood to holding upright anymore, and he slid down to the ground, until he was sitting at Piers’ feet. 

“You’re an asshole,” he said, choking on an awkward laugh, which was wet around the edges and burned in the back of his throat. “You know?” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Piers snorted, and dug out a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “But I actually know what he was like,” he added, lighting up one, and blowing up a cloud above their head. “I can’t imagine what it felt, dealing with his shit every single day. It’s a miracle you didn’t go mad.” 

Leon laughed some more, running his fingers through his hair in a familiar, soothing motion. 

He wasn’t so bad, he meant to say, like he always did, whenever the subject came up. But instead, what spilled out of his mouth, bitter-sweet with poison was: 

“I can still hear him, some days, droning on about propriety and our image and the great good.” Leon swallowed hard. “So maybe I did crack, a little.” 

“You’re the disgustingly cheerful kind of person who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body,” Piers said, looking down at him with the same kind of fond softness he looked at Raihan even while he needled him about something or other. “So this might come as a surprise, but there’s no foul in hating someone who’s tried as hard as he did, to fucking earn it.” 

Leon laughed, burying his face into his knees, and pretended really hard the laughter wasn’t turning into something else entirely, even as his eyes burned with tears. 

Raihan found them there, a while later, long after Piers had finished smoking – and irresponsibly threw the butt of his cigarette into the singed grass of the field – and Leon’s eyes were mostly dry. He flew down on flygon, looking singularly upset. 

“What the hell did you do to my Stadium?” He demanded, nearly tripping as he dismounted, clearly hungover. 

Piers and Leon shared a look and laughed, almost like friends. 

“Nothing much.” 

* * *

It was… distressingly easy to fold Piers into the routine of the house. 

He spent most of his time asleep, either in his room – it was very much not Leon’s room, more so now that he’d moved all his things into his and Raihan’s room – or on the couch, or on the yard. He mostly slept and ate and flung the kind of scathing witticisms that Leon was starting to realize were how he showed affection, at anyone who stood still long enough. It was… surprisingly bearable, actually, considering Piers aimed his jabs precisely to avoid any of the still bruised bits of him that Leon was trying to sort out on his own. He even smiled, amused, when Leon stumbled on a come back here and there. 

He was alright, really, for all he was unpleasant for sport and enjoyed tripping Leon’s sense of right and wrong. 

When he told Sonia about it, she’d laughed and teased him about charming his in-laws. Leon hadn’t bothered to dignify that with an answer and instead hung up, her laughter still ringing in his ears. 

“I made sev,” Leon said, bringing a bowl of the stuff with him as he sat on what he’d termed his side of the couch – sides usually delineated by Raihan sitting between them – and putting it between them. “You mentioned you’d never eaten it before.” Leon smiled at the dubious look Piers gave him, well aware that was just what Piers’ face looked like. “It’s like chips, but better.” 

“Did you spit on this?” Piers asked, squinting. 

Leon snorted. 

“No,” he said, head tilted to the side. “But I’ll be happy to, if that’s what you’re into.” 

Piers gave him a dirty look for his trouble, and then put down the nail polish he was painstakingly painting on his nails. It was black, because of course it was, and by that point, Leon was done worrying about being stereotypical, considering Piers had the matter well in hand, it seemed. He watched him grab a small handful of noodles and gingerly put it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as if expecting it to spontaneously taste bad. That was pretty much how Piers reacted to all food he didn’t make himself or came out of a takeout box, though, so Leon didn’t take it personally. 

After all, he’d tried Raihan’s cooking by then, and Raihan’s cooking was… not the greatest, really. 

“It’s alright, Princess,” Piers said, voice heavy with indifference as he didn’t look at Leon in the eye, though he did grab a larger handful in between finishing one nail and starting the other. 

Leon considered that a victory. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you,” Leon said, sneaking a handful of sev for himself, “why you call me that.” 

“It’s an old joke,” Piers said, lips twitching, “’cause as far as Raihan was concerned, his princess was always in another castle.” Piers paused a moment. “And then there’s the fact you’re as far removed from being a princess as one can conceivably be.” He frowned. “Why? You mind?” 

Leon shrugged. 

“Not really,” he said, and then grinned, “matter of fact, I kinda like it. You sound fond of me when you say it.” 

Piers scoffed loudly. 

“I do not.” 

“It’s okay, Piers,” Leon laughed, stretching a leg to nudge one of Piers’, grin firmly planted on his lips. “I’m fond of you too. Lots more than I ever thought I’d be, really.” 

“If you break into song about friendship, I will puke,” Piers declared rebelliously, blowing on his nails as he waited for them to dry. 

“Wouldn’t you be the one to do that?” Leon teased, nudging Piers’ knee again. “You write about love and feelings and friendship, in your songs.” 

Piers made a face like he’d stumbled on a joke that Leon was not allowed to know about. 

“That I do,” he admitted, expression wry. “You could say I’ve got a good source for my material.” 

Leon opened his mouth to ask about that, but his rotom started ringing, floating up to his face as the ghostly wail-like ringtone he’d assigned Allister started playing. 

“I’m sorry,” Leon said, plucking his phone out of the air, “I’ve got to take this.” Piers shrugged and waved him off, as Leon walked out into the yard. “Hello?” 

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Allister said, sounding slightly out of breath. 

* * *

Leon found the research station in route 6 fairly easily, since it stood out like a sore thumb from the air. Even if the tent weren’t bright neon blue, though, he’d have noticed it by the sheer concentration of ghost pokemon around it. Ghosts fed on negative emotions, and there was definitely a banquet inside that tent, judging by the way Allister and his team were trying to keep the curious ghosts from investigating further and possibly making things worse in that very uniquely ghost way only they could. 

“I stopped her,” Allister said, as soon as Leon landing, running up to him frantically, “I made her stop. She won’t do it anymore, but still. Still. It’s hurting.” 

“Allister,” Leon tried, voice soothing, just as the boy dug his fingers into his side, clinging desperately. 

“It sounds like it hurts. It hurts and I don’t know how to help.” He sounded very upset, in that single-minded way that Leon found painfully familiar, like he was focusing with all his might on something other than the fact he wanted to scream. “I’m the Gym Leader, it’s my job to do this, but I don’t know how to fix it, Leon. I don’t… Please.” 

“That’s okay, you did okay,” Leon said, trying to keep his tone even. “It’s okay if you let me handle it now.” 

“I’m the Gym Leader,” Allister insisted, fingers digging through the cloth of Leon’s shirt and straight into his sides. “I’m supposed to take care of things.” 

“You did,” Leon replied, and gave into temptation to finger his hair, the way he’d always found it soothing when his Nan did it. “You did your best and asked for help when it got to be too much. That’s the right way to go about this.” 

“But what are we going to do about it?” Allister asked, pointing at the inside of the tent. “We can’t just leave it. It hurts.” 

Leon finally turned to look. 

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

“Ah,” he said, as diplomatically as he could, watching the creature writhing and thrashing desperately inside the tent. “I think nurse Joy will need to take a look.” Nurse Joy was probably going to swear and break out the whiskey, Leon reckoned, but that was not the kind of thing Allister needed to hear. “Why don’t you call Chairman Mia while I catch it?” 

“I didn’t think of that,” Allister said, frown clear in his voice. 

“It’s okay,” Leon replied, even though it really wasn’t, because taking a closer look didn’t make it any less obvious that the pokemon inside the tent had… not been reconstituted properly. “Make the call, Allister,” he added, pulling an ultraball from his bag. 

He wasn’t entirely sure it was going to work, to be honest, but it was worth a try. 

“Right,” Allister said, turning away to poke at his phone. 

“Hey,” Leon said, slowly inching his way into the tent, trying to catch the pokemon’s eye. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re scared and it hurts, but I’m here to help.” Well, he was going to try anyway. “It’s okay, I’m gonna throw this,” he added, waving the ultraball right where it could see it, though its gaze was worryingly dull. “And you’re gonna stay in it, okay? The next time you come out of it, I promise, you’ll feel much better.” 

The pokemon – it was a pokemon, probably, though it looked nothing like any pokemon Leon had ever seen – made low, pitiful noise when the ultraball hit its side. Outside, Leon could hear Allister speak with Mia, sounding far more composed – deadpan – than he had before, recounting the events to the best of his abilities. Leon didn’t tear his eyes off the wobbling ultraball, until the little red light went off. 

So there was that. 

* * *

“Lee.” 

Leon startled at the sound of his name, turning to find Raihan standing by the doorway, hunched over the way he always did inside building that hadn’t been built for someone his size. Leon stared up at him, exhaustion suddenly catching up with him. Allister had gone home already – Leon had told him to go home – and so had most of the police and League personnel that had accompanied Mia when she arrived. He was the only one left, because he was the idiot that caught the damn thing, and now it was his call, what to do with it. 

“Sit with me?” Leon asked, not standing up because the effort felt far too monumental to handle. 

Raihan smiled softly, because he was kind and nice and perfect, just like always. 

“Sure,” he said, sauntering over in his slouch, and then folding down to sit next to Leon on the uncomfortable plastic bench outside the critical care wing, where nurse Joy had disappeared hours earlier, to try and save Leon’s newest catch. “Are you okay?” 

Leon pondered his answer, even as he grabbed one of Raihan’s hands in his own, fingers fitting against each other almost on reflex. Was he okay? Not particularly. He was so angry he’d legitimately thrown up, particularly after Mia shared what they’d pieced together from the investigation and the research notes. 

“People are assholes,” Leon whispered, leaning his head against Raihan’s shoulder, “sometimes.” 

Raihan looped his arm around Leon’s shoulders without letting go of his hand, and pressed his lips to the side of his face. 

“Yeah,” he said, voice quiet, “they kinda are.” 

Together, they waited. 


	5. hammerlocke gym

Leon held the ultraball in his hands, nervous and terrified about what would happen, once he released the pokemon inside it. 

Nurse Joy had reassured him it would be alright, at least. Granted, they didn’t really know how alright would look like, for… something like this, but they’d done all they could. He just hoped whatever happened, his promise to them, when he captured them, didn’t rang hollow, and they really did feel better now. 

“Oh, that’s big,” Raihan said, at his side, blinking as the light reshaped themselves into a looming figure. “I don’t know why I was expecting something… smaller.” 

So had Leon, truth be told, but it was probably because he hadn’t gotten a good look at them in the tent before. Where they stood now, the pokemon was taller than Raihan, and they still looked… well, undeniably _wrong_ in their own way, but also clearly not in thrashing, screaming pain anymore. So that was a plus. 

“Hi,” Leon said, offering a small smile. “Feeling better now?” 

They made a gurgling noise as their eyes found Leon, and then they flopped forward, fins hanging limply at each side of their face as they pressed theirs into Leon’s, chirring in what couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than a happy noise. All air in Leon’s lungs escaped him at once, but not by force, just sheer relief. He wrapped his arms around their head and laughed as he got nuzzled for his efforts. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Leon whispered, fingering along the strange ridge on their neck, where fish-like scales gave into more reptile-like ones, because they seemed to like it best when he touched them there. 

“You know, it’s actually kinda cute,” Raihan said, peering over Leon’s shoulder to get a better look, “got a name for it?” 

The pokemon froze in Leon’s arms, eyes snapping open to stare at Raihan, before they started shaking all at once, flinching back while simultaneously trying – and failing – to put Leon between them. Both Leon and Raihan stared at the display, which was a little ridiculous not the least because the thing was seven feet of poorly reconstructed fossil material and should have, by all accounts, looked terrifying. They looked like a kicked yamper instead. 

“I think they’re shy,” Leon ventured, charmed as he petted the fin-like ridge on their face. “Don’t be scared, it’s Raihan! He’s good.” 

“Hello,” Raihan said, waving benignly at them, “I’m going to pet your head a little, okay?” 

Raihan raised a hand and purposefully held it close to their mouth, as if to let them smell it, before he very gently ran a finger along their brow a few times. When the shaking slowed, as they clearly realized the touch didn’t hurt, Raihan spread his whole palm and petted their head in a wider gesture. After a moment, they finally relaxed, and the happy chirr started up again. 

“There’s a good lad,” Leon sighed, petting the other side of their head, as they melted contently against his side. They were heavy, so he had to brace his knees properly, kind of like when rhyperior wanted cuddles. “To answer your question, I haven’t thought of it yet.” 

“Well,” Raihan replied, eyes softened as he scratched under a gill and the pokemon’s left leg started bouncing on reflex, “it’s part dragon, part fish, right?” That was a polite way of saying it, Leon reckoned, nodding at Raihan. He grinned, the practiced social media grin with the little fang flashing under his lip that had his fans – and Leon – swaying in place every time he used it. “So how about dracofish? Dracovish. Yeah, dracovish. Rolls easy off the tongue, though that face is full on Mr. Fish.” 

“I’m not naming them Mr. Fish,” Leon said, a twitch of hysterical laughter caught in his throat. “Raihan!” 

“You don’t know,” Raihan defended himself, “maybe they like it.” He scratched under the hardened, beak-like edges of their mouth, into what was effectively its chin. “Do you? Are you a Mr. Fish? Or a dracovish?” The second option got a decidedly louder noise, and perhaps not just because Leon was fingering the scales around their neck again. Raihan snorted. “They liked the pun.” He paused, and said it again: “Dracovish.” But the result was the same, so he could only laugh. “Yeah, they’re _your_ pokemon alright.” 

Leon hiccupped a laugh, pressing his forehead against the weirdly soft, scaled side of their face, feeling exhausted. 

“Let’s go home.” 

* * *

The truth of the matter, which Raihan pointed out with that uncanny ability of his to make sense of the world even when Leon was drowning in it, was that dracovish was seven feet and four hundred fifty pounds of baby dragon. And the distressing thing was that he was right. All dracovish did was eat and sleep, and, when they weren’t doing either, kept themselves plastered to Leon’s back, making little blubbering noises with their mouth. They liked to rest their head atop Leon’s, begging for attention whenever Leon was not dedicated fully to the task of petting them. They were scared of everything – literally _everything_ , but particularly Piers, which Raihan thought was hysterical, and anything made of metal, which included aegislash and duralodon. Only Leon, and with some hesitation, Raihan, were exempt from their fight-or-flight-but-seriously-just-flight response, and in turn ended up being the thing they hid behind from whatever had spooked them at the time. 

Leon could do nothing else but love them and do his best to fulfill his promise to nurse Joy, to give them the best life possible, now that they’ve made certain there would be no others like them, ever. Leon also wrote Chairman Mia a very strongly worded letter explaining in minute detail exactly what he would do, if he ever found out there were more hybrids running around. 

“It’s fucked up,” Raihan said, as he passed beers around, watching Leon sitting at the edge of the couch, with seven feet of hybrid fossil trying their very best to squirm themselves into his lap and making sad noises because only their head fit there. “I mean, fossils are alive, once you revive them.” 

“Yes, Raihan,” Piers pointed out, giving him a side look, “that’s what _reviving_ means.” 

Despite it all, Leon snickered into his drink, and shrugged a bit when Raihan shot him a wounded, betrayed look. On TV, the announcer declared victory to the large fossil pokemon that had so handily destroyed its opponent’s team. Leon had never gotten much of a chance to follow foreign leagues, between his schedule and Rose’s insistence that he focused on Galar, but Raihan followed _all_ conferences religiously. They were very different from Galar’s league, and Leon got the impression Raihan was more interested in the statistics of pokemon usage than individual trainers. That was a completely different way to engage with a league, than how it was done in Galar, where people often followed a trainer’s career for _years_. Piers didn’t seem to care much for it, either way, but that meant he didn’t care enough to object. So their evenings were often consumed by live broadcasts from Kalos, as it was their regionals that were in season. 

Leon didn’t really mind, he’d even gotten to see a salamance in action already. That had been exciting, the first time, and then it had quickly escalated into a drinking game, because apparently Raihan hadn’t been kidding about it, and there was a salamance in every team that made it to the final bracket stage of their tournament. 

“You know what I mean,” Raihan said, coming to sit between Piers and Leon, and taking the time to flash a wry smile at dracovish when they tensed and tried to flatten themselves into Leon’s lap, on reflex. 

“Barely,” Piers deadpanned and snickered when Raihan shoved him a bit, before settling in place. 

“I get there’s like twenty years of conversation about the ethics of fossil reconstitution already,” Raihan said, shaking his head, “but shit, they’re _alive_.” 

“Well, the thing is, Kanto basically got to write the manual about it, so to speak,” Leon pointed out, fingering the hard scales around dracovish’ gills and smiling as their eyes slid close, basking in the touch. “They’ve always allowed fossil pokemon in their league and the other regions just sort of… followed through.” 

“We don’t, though,” Piers pointed out, one eyebrow arched. Then he paused, frowning, and tilted his head to look at Leon, beyond Raihan. “Actually, _why_ don’t we?” 

Leon did not think it was particularly strange that Piers would demand an answer from him as if he were personally responsible, mostly because he _had_ been personally responsible, up to a few months prior. He shrugged. 

“Oh, it’s part of the stupid Protection of Galar’s National Identity protocols of the league. Same reason we don’t allow mega evolution, use of foreign species and why non-Galarian regional pokemon variants are just… a _nightmare_ to even look at, never mind actually owning one.” Leon laughed into his beer, the distinct, bitter laugh of a man who knew entirely too much about the bureaucracy of their region and their league. “See, no one’s ever found a complete fossil in Galar, at least not complete enough to be viable for reconstitution. But the only existing loophole in the rulebook right now to use a pokemon that is _not_ one of the 389 pokemon listed in the official Galar League Pokedex _is_ to reconstitute one from a fossil certified to have been found in Galar.” 

“So wait, Mr. Fish is _legal_?” Raihan asked, eyebrows arched as he stared down at dracovish, who was busy doing its best impression of a content goomy, melting at Leon’s feet. “Are you kidding me?” 

“I mean, technically, yeah,” Leon replied, shrugging. “He’s 100% Galarian. And, sure, the Pokedex hasn’t been updated officially yet, but Eternatus, Zacian and Zamazenta are _also_ technically legal to compete, since the primary requirement is that the pokemon was caught in, and its species is native to, the region.” 

“Aren’t legendaries blanket banned from league events?” Piers asked, frowning. “I distinctly remember laughing when I got read the rules at the Battle Tree in Alola. So many people must be carrying legendaries around that _that_ needs to be a rule.” 

“Well, the thing is that it _could_ happen,” Leon pointed out, “it’s just that since we didn’t know we had legendaries in Galar, before the Darkest Day debacle, no one really thought it was necessary to include it explicitly since the first two requirements rule out all other known legendaries.” 

“Actually, I know the guy who officially threw the tantrum about legendaries to the global league,” Raihan pointed out, looking smug. “Both of the champions that Lance is currently substituting for-“ 

“How the hell do you substitute for a champion?” Piers asked, eyebrows arched. “Doesn’t that _make_ him the champion?” 

Raihan laughed a vindictive little laugh. 

“Oh, no, no, it’s _different_ ,” he said, eyes glinting mischievously. “Actually, next year, when it’s my turn to host the Annual Dragon Conference, a, you’re playing in the opening ceremony, and b, I will pay you whatever you want, to walk up to Lance and ask him that. Please.” 

Piers gave Raihan a dubious look and then shrugged. 

“Okay.” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Raihan said, complete with a little fist bump. “Anyway, the point is that… it happened to him. _Twice._ First was a ten-year-old with a full set of legendary birds in Kanto, and then, three years later, there was this teenage girl with like… five of the fucking things, from Johto. And _both_ of them basically peaced out right after getting crowned, so they’ve technically never been defeated… so, they’re still Champions. They’re just not there to do the whole Champion thing, which is why Lance has had to fill in for them for twenty and seventeen years now, respectively. And let me tell you, he is _bitter_ about that. Like, ganlon berry levels of bitter. I’ve seen the man drown half a bottle of scotch in one swing, just to get through telling that story.” 

“He’s been substituting for _twenty years_?” Leon choked on his beer. 

“I did mention he was _very_ bitter about it, right?” Raihan laughed. “But yeah, Lance is the reason the league blanket banned legendaries. Funnily enough, he also has a fossil in his regular roster, as of last season… but of course it’s not one of the dragon type fossils, because Lance is the most famous dragon trainer in the world, and that’s why he uses the least amount of actual dragon type pokemon out of all the trainers officially registered in the Dragon Type Association. And, as president of said association, I am, of course, not even the _slightest_ bit bitter about that.” 

Piers snorted. 

“We can tell,” he deadpanned, just as Raihan buried his face into his knees and choked on a noise of annoyance. “Of course.” 

Leon chuckled and reached out, wrapping an arm around Raihan’s shoulders and tugging him close enough so he could press a kiss to the edge of his jaw. 

“It’s okay,” he said, “you’re the strongest dragon trainer I know!” 

“Aww, baby,” Raihan cooed, and then leaned in to return the kiss, pressing it to the corner of Leon’s mouth. “You do get the bit where you’re both a dragon trainer and stronger than me – for now anyway – right?” 

Leon stuck out his tongue. 

“See if I try to comfort you anymore,” he said, mock-wounded, and then laughed when Raihan leaned in to kiss him or bite his tongue, Leon wasn’t quite sure, but the end result was pleasant either way. 

“Still here,” Piers deadpanned, eyes firmly fixed on the TV screen. “Just for the record.” 

Leon choked on a laugh as Raihan closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together, looking exasperated. 

“Yes,” he said, offering one last kiss to Leon’s cheek before sitting back straight, “yes, you are.” 

“Thank you kindly for remembering,” Piers murmured, mock-demure, and Leon found himself snickering. “And look at that, _another_ salamance.” 

They turned back to the screen, where sure enough, there was a salamance in the process of mega evolving, so that translated to two long swings from their beer. 

“What’s it like?” Leon asked, shifting about – dracovish whined miserably until Leon found the right spot, so he was tucked under Raihan’s arm, pressed comfortably against his side, and one of his legs was hooked on the arm of the couch, so dracovish could lie on him halfway almost comfortably – and looking at Piers through the corner of his eye. “Mega evolving your partner, I mean. What’s it like?” 

Piers shrugged. 

“Like hitting the high note right before dropping pitch,” he said, which was a somewhat common theme in his songs and guaranteed to drive his audience into screaming cheering every time he did it, “fucking exhausting and literally just a victory lap to show off, but absolutely goddamn worth it.” 

“I can’t believe you two did that,” Raihan sighed, wincing as on screen the mega salamance used stone edge to obliterate the togekiss in front of it. “I can’t believe you two did that _in my stadium_ ,” he added, shaking his head, “and I missed it.” 

“Oh no, your boyfriend kicked my ass,” Piers snarked, rolling his eyes, “because you’ve literally never seen him kick someone’s ass before. Oh wait-“ 

“My ass, Piers,” Raihan sighed, and then slumped sideways into Leon, competing with dracovish for cuddling real estate, “eat it.” 

“Only don’t,” Leon piped up, curling an arm around Raihan’s shoulders and trying his best to accommodate both dragons begging for attention, “y’know. Please.” 

Piers took a long swing of his beer, which then they all replicated because the last pokemon to face mega salamance… was salamance. 

Then he sighed, sounding fond almost against his best judgment. 

“You two are disgusting.” 

Leon reckoned that was a compliment, in that weird, roundabout Piers way of his, and beamed proudly at him for it. 

* * *

On Wednesday, Piers delivered Leon an ultimatum. 

“You need a job.” 

Leon, who was, at that point, busy painting his nails, looked up at him in surprise. He’d never really thought about it, before he started to share a good deal of his days with Piers, in Raihan’s house – it wasn’t part of his image, as Champion, and even if Sonia had offered to paint his nails at any point, Leon had a near pavlovian reaction to decline any offers from her, to change his appearance in any way. Nothing personal there, just… that nice, comfy layer of childhood trauma that served as the bedrock of their friendship. 

Piers painted his nails to keep himself from biting them, and while Leon did not have that problem, he was fascinated to discover you could _paint_ things, on your nails, beyond solid blocks of color, like the little white squiggles Piers did in his, sometimes, to replicate a zigzagoon’s fur pattern. Or in Leon’s case, tiny charizard wings, or charizard heads, or charizard tails, or if you were patient enough and figured out the right way to bundle up your fingers together, a whole ass charizard formed by all five nails together. It was a very tedious thing, nail art, small and fiddly and requiring tons of time and patience and creativity. Leon liked it mostly for the challenge it provided, and over the last few weeks, it had taken up a significant amount of his days – time he used to spend trolling cooking blogs, for example, or getting lost in Hammerlocke – giving him something to do on the sofa, while Piers sat in front of the small, beaten up piano stuck against a wall in the living room, composing music. As long as he was quiet and didn’t interrupt, Piers didn’t mind if he stuck around while he pawed at the keys and made notes in a battered-up notebook. 

Leon, who basically had the music ability of a fried turnip, found the whole thing fascinating, not just because he was a very big fan of Piers’ music in particular. 

It was very satisfying watching Piers work from a four or five note jingle, to something more complex: playing the same tune over and over, trying out new things until he found the right follow up, stitching sounds and sometimes words together, and then going back and playing them all at once, to show they really did go together. It was not something Leon could ever hope to do, but he admired the craft of it. 

Piers was also singularly likeable while he was composing: he didn’t call Leon names – he didn’t call _anyone_ names – and he sang under his breath, and when dracovish approached him, seemingly willing to conquer their irrational fear of him and his ridiculous hair, Piers had petted their nose and _smiled_. Piers creating music was fundamentally a different person entirely, like a glimpse into an alternate universe where Piers wasn’t a raging dick just for fun. 

Of course, when he’d shared that tidbit of insight with him, Piers had kicked him for his efforts, so Leon knew better than to say anything else. 

“What makes you say that?” Leon asked, blinking at him as he waved his hand, waiting for the polish to dry. 

Piers stared at him like it was obvious. 

“You’re trying to see how many layers there are inside a nail polish bottle,” he said, pointing at the frankly ridiculous mountains of nail polish currently stuck to Leon’s nails. 

“You’re helping!” Leon snorted, one eyebrow arched. 

“Yeah,” Piers replied, shrugging indolently, “but I’ve decided this is now part of my creative process because it’s more productive than beating the keyboard with my face. So that technically makes it part of _my_ job,” he added, head tilted sideways just a sliver, the way he always did when he felt he’d won an argument already. “’s why I get to business expense the dumb amount of nail polish we’ve wasted this week.” 

“It wasn’t a _waste_ , it was an experiment,” Leon retorted, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly – it turned out pokemon needed nails, claws or claw-like appendages to be able to have manicures and the results were not always exactly great – before he wrinkled his nose. “Besides, I’m… on sabbatical!” He blurted out, for lack of a better way to describe his life at the moment. “So there!” 

“No,” Piers explained, in the mock-patient tone he used whenever he was condescending at someone, “a sabbatical implies you have a job to go back to, which you don’t.” He snorted. “’cause you’re unemployed, and slowly going mad with it. You need a job.” 

Leon scoffed, resentful. 

“I’m not going _mad_.” 

“Leon, mate,” Piers gave him a dubious look, “you spent six hours yesterday, painting Hammerlocke’s skyline on your _toenails_.” 

Leon looked down reflexively at his feet, wiggling said toes. And yeah, there was… a very good facsimile of Hammerlocke skyline painted on his toenails, if he said so himself. And maybe it had taken him six hours to do it, as well as a lot of stretching and twisting and figuring out exactly how flexible he really was. But that wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily. Raihan had complimented him for it, even! He’d said it was cute. 

And it wasn’t like Leon had anything else to do, really, no pressing business to take care of. 

He was fine. 

_Fine._

He stared at the mountain of polish slowly drying on his nails in all its lopsided glory. 

“Oh god, I need a job,” he whispered, shuddering. 

“Or a hobby, at least,” Piers speculated, giving Leon that squinty, side look he favored right before calling someone an idiot. “Y’know. Something.” 

“I mean, I could always do drugs,” Leon deadpanned, if only because it made Piers choke on spit and preemptively distracted him enough he didn’t get around to actually calling Leon an idiot. “But then, my parents would be sad.” 

“Dick,” Piers snorted, catching on. Then he sighed, standing up and heading out to sit at the edge of the sliding door into the yard, so he could smoke. “I’m probably going home next week, y’know. You’ll be on your own, then.” 

Leon curled his legs up, leaning in to rest his chin on his knees as he smiled. 

“You mean I won’t have someone trying to piss me off every waking hour?” He stuck his tongue out at Piers. “Oh no, the horror.” 

Piers lit up a match, pull it up to the cigarette hanging off his lips and, once he lit it up, he shook the match until it went out and fluidly switched the motion until he was solidly flipping Leon a thin, bony finger. It was actually kind of impressive, how smooth the transition was. 

Leon laughed. 

“I appreciate the concern for what it is,” he said, purposefully because it made Piers bristle on reflex, and then shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. Got time to sort it out.” 

Piers gave him a doubtful look, but said nothing else. 

It was fine. 

* * *

The yard was decidedly not big enough for Nat to land in it, so instead he landed awkwardly on the wall leading up to Hammerlocke Stadium, balanced precariously in place as his head lowered enough that Gloria could hop off onto the ground. She and Piers didn’t even exchange words: he just sighed loudly and walked off to gather his stuff. Her expression brightened and softened at once, when she saw Leon, however. 

“Hello,” she said, walking across the yard with a bright smile. “Sorry for intruding.” 

Leon shrugged. 

“That’s a look,” he ventured out, head tilted sideways, considering she was wearing a very familiar combination of pink, black and white, complete with Team Yell logo and all. 

Gloria laughed, almost sheepish. 

“Well, the _actual_ admin of Team Yell is holed up in here with you,” she pointed out, shrugging, “someone had to step up and keep the grunts in place while Marnie’s in talks with the League about the new stadium.” Gloria shrugged. “He’s got… mixed feelings about it and that means everyone is lowkey freaking about it.” She gave him a teasing smile. “Someone very smart once told me you gotta look the part, to get people to do as you say.” 

Leon smiled at that, but sobered up quickly. 

“So it worked?” He asked, blinking up at her. “Creating a brand-new power spot?” 

“Not in Spikemuth proper,” Gloria said, hands on her hips as she looked at Nat nose about Leon’s pokemon, as if greeting them. “There’s… I don’t know, there’s something about the town that just won’t let one take hold. So it’s getting built a bit more south. It’ll be accessed through Spikemuth itself, though! So that should help the town… y’know, hopefully grow around it until the new stadium _is_ within Spikemuth. Though with Piers’ music, it’s not like they really depend on the League for income anymore.” 

“If they don’t want it,” Leon began, frowning. 

“Oh, Marnie wants it,” Gloria interrupted, shrugging. “She wants Spikemuth to be… I don’t know, like Turffield or Stow-on-Side. Not super big or anything, but… secure. Y’know? Even if they do reopen the mines next year, which I’m honestly not sure they will, I’ve been down there and it’s _a mess_. But even if they do, Marnie thinks the League is their best bet to guarantee a level of prosperity. And she’s not wrong, I think, just over the past few weeks, I can tell you, Team Yell membership extends way further than just Spikemuth these days. So that’s good.” 

Leon reckoned that had something to do with the fact Marnie was not aggressively blacklisted across the entirety of Macro Cosmo and all its subsidiaries, which allowed her natural battling talents to shine through and capture the hearts of fans across Galar. But that was a sore thing he didn’t think was his place to comment on, really. 

“I’m glad,” Leon said, offering an encouraging smile, “that you’re doing alright.” 

“Well, yeah. You know,” she replied, winking, “ _it just be that way sometimes._ ” 

“That it be,” Leon laughed, shaking his head, “that it be.” 

They stood there in comfortable silence, watching Leon’s dracovish slowly, tentatively inch their way closer to Nat, encouraged by the fact the rest of Leon’s pokemon felt comfortable enough to go say hi. They were getting better, as they grew older, about their irrational fear of everything. Much the same way as the babies – not quite babies anymore – that were now more often out of their corral and left to frolic around in the yard. Said babies were way ahead of dracovish by then, hissing and feinting playful bites at the erstwhile doom dragon of poison and hate, like Raihan liked to call him. 

Leon marveled the fact he was not in the least bit nervous about that, watching Nat’s crystallized eyes blink slowly as it bumped a jangmo-o with its snout, toppling it over with surprisingly care. 

“I’m going down to Postwick,” Gloria said abruptly, “over the weekend. I’m… Hop’s back now, from Hoenn.” 

Leon did not point out Hop had been back from Hoenn for months now. 

“That’s good,” he said, offering an encouraging smile. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.” 

“I hope he wants to battle,” Gloria admitted, licking her lips. “Even if…” She trailed off, and then gave Leon a small, awkward smile. “You’re lucky, living with your rival. I bet you guys get to battle every day.” 

Leon laughed and gave into the impulse to wrap an arm around her shoulders, tucking her against his side. 

“Only once a week,” he confessed, smiling as she clung to him, welcoming the hug. “Not for my lack of trying, mind, but Raihan says he has _work_ and _obligations_ and all that boring grownup stuff to do.” 

“Rude,” Gloria snorted, “I hope Hop still wants to be my rival. Everyone else is so…” 

“ _Boring_ ,” Leon whispered, so she wouldn’t have to, because everyone else clearly included her girlfriend, who was a very strong and capable Gym Leader by her own right. 

But Leon got it. 

It wasn’t about strength, fighting one’s rival, it was about something _else_. Something feral and euphoric and unique, that no one else could give you. He wondered, how it would feel to battle Raihan, and not be in love with him, but reckoned it wasn’t his place to question it. He was and they were and that was something he was keenly aware he should be grateful for. 

“No one else makes me work for it so much,” Gloria confessed, “and even when they do-“ 

“You don’t enjoy it,” Leon agreed, nodding as he remembered facing Piers’ tyranitar and how close he’d come to losing, and how _blisteringly furious_ he’d been at himself, for coming so close to losing. “I know.” He smiled. “It’ll be alright, I’m sure. Hop feels the same way.” 

If it had been Raihan, he knew, who had pushed him to that edge, he’d have been delirious with joy. But it was Piers, and Piers had no right to be so good, to push him so hard. Gloria had beaten him, the second defeat in his life, but all his relief about it had nothing to do with the fight itself, and everything with the exhaustion of fifteen years waiting for someone to relieve him from his post. 

They’d never fought again, was the thing, after their Championship match. 

They’d never battled, not once, not while she’d been Champion under his mentorship, not after. Because they both knew, even if their strength was comparable, even if they could truly give each other a challenge… _they weren’t the person the other wanted to challenge._

“I hope so,” Gloria sighed, letting her head fall forward a little and then she looked at him at the corner of her eye and smiled wryly. “Feelings are dumb.” 

“Little bit,” Leon laughed, and nudged her, as he heard Piers stomp downstairs with the loud, uncaring air of his that let Leon know he was making a racket on purpose. “But it’s worth it, I think, long term.” 

“Let’s go,” Piers said, stepping out, bag thrown over his shoulder and expression utterly unruffled. He gave Leon a thoughtful look. “Princess.” 

“Piers,” Leon deadpanned, and valiantly ignored the look Gloria gave him at the nickname. “You’re always welcome here.” 

He shrugged, tossing his hair back arrogantly, and Leon wasn’t _jealous_ of how effortless he made the gesture look, not really, but it was a very expressive thing that communicated much with very little. 

“I know,” Piers said, and then threw an arm around Gloria’s shoulders. “C’mon, Sis, let’s go see what fucking mess you’ve made of my city.” 

Leon watched them go, bickering lightly as they climbed onto Nat’s back and then took off, arms crossed over his chest and wry smile tugging at his lips. His expression fell, by degrees, as Nat disappeared in the distance and he was left staring at the sky, with Hammerlocke Keep’s looming shadow eating up most of the horizon. 

The world was changing, even as he stood still, figuring out himself. Of course it wasn’t just waiting for him to go back into it: people had their own lives, their own problems. 

Leon licked his lips as a thought occurred to him, insidious and terrible and hopeful all at once. 

Then he went back inside, determined to make Raihan’s favorite for dinner, in case he needed cheering up now that Piers was gone. 

* * *

Raihan didn’t really need cheering up, it turned out, though he did appreciate the effort Leon put into dinner. He appreciated it vocally and repeatedly and primarily with his mouth, right between Leon’s legs. 

“Out with it,” Raihan said, eyes half lidded and smug, as he watched Leon melt into the bed, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

“What?” Leon asked, staring up at him with a squint. 

“You’re thinking about something,” Raihan said, whipping his thumb across his lips and grinning as he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Leon’s mouth and it made him shiver all the way down to his toes. “And it’s big enough you’re _still_ thinking about it,” he added, sounding smug as he settled in against Leon’s side, one arm and one leg thrown over Leon’s body possessively. “So out with it, what’s up?” 

Leon laughed, covering his face with his hands as he felt it burn in a way anything Raihan had done in the past half hour hadn’t really managed to. Raihan didn’t push anymore, he just waited, so Leon eventually peered at him through his fingers, and found him watching him expectantly, serene and loving and _intent_ in a way that made Leon want to chuck his own brain out the window and go back to what they were doing. Instead, he swallowed hard. 

“Remember when I first moved in,” he said, licking his lips, “and you threatened to hire me because I like baby dragons and let them bite my hands until they calm down?” 

Raihan grinned. 

“Yeah,” he said, and Leon wanted nothing more than to shift around and kiss him until he ran out of air, given the honestly goofy grin hanging off his lips. 

“Would you?” Leon said instead, “hire me, I mean,” he added hastily, and then cleared his throat. “I just… I want to learn doubles properly and, well, there’s no other place to learn than Hammerlocke Gym. And you keep bringing up that I _am_ a dragon trainer, because I am, so I was wondering-“ 

Raihan leaned in and kissed him. He kissed him long and slow, until he’d shifted and he was sitting most of his weight on Leon’s hips. 

“Hammerlocke’s Gym Leader would be _delighted_ to have you,” Raihan said, breathing the words against his lips. 

“I’m serious!” Leon laughed, a ridiculous combination of nervous and turned on, hands naturally resting on Raihan’s thighs. 

“So am I,” Raihan promised, and then leaned in to bite on Leon’s collarbone, hard enough to make him writhe on reflex. “Tomorrow, come to the Gym with me.” 

“Okay,” Leon sighed, trailing his hands up to wrap them tightly around Raihan’s narrow waist. “Okay.” 

They still spent a while, figuring out _okay_. 

* * *

While Leon held Raihan’s hand as they walked to the Gym, the next morning, upon entering, three separate people approached Raihan with tablets, questions and a delivery slip he needed to sign. So, Leon let go of his hand, and afterwards, as Raihan motioned for him to follow him past the Stadium and the power plant towards the rescue and the staff building behind it… Leon felt keenly self-conscious about reaching out to grab it again. 

He was, after all, about to turn his boyfriend into his boss, and if nothing else, he had enough knowledge of liability and professionalism to know it’d be a bad idea to not try and keep those lines properly drawn since day one. 

Maybe this had been a bad idea, after all. 

Then Raihan led him to the spiral staircase inside the spire atop which sat his office, and Leon did not whistle only because his Nan disapproved of it on principle. 

“So that’s why you don’t go to the gym,” Leon blurted out, staring up at the dark, frankly claustrophobic staircase that Raihan started climbing up without even slowing down a bit, “and still have thighs that could crush a man’s skull.” 

Raihan nearly missed a step. 

“What?” He asked, turning around to look at Leon with a flustered expression on his face. 

“What?” Leon replied, feigning innocence, because apparently that whole keep professional lines in place was going to be a lot harder than anticipated. 

“Humans can’t crush skulls with just their thighs,” Raihan said, frowning, “that’s solid bone.” 

“Actually, at the right angle, you don’t need that much force,” Leon replied before he really thought about it, words flowing with the ease of those truths he just _knew_ , sometimes, along with a one shoulder shrug. Then he looked away, suddenly aware of exactly what he’d just said, so he powered on, hoping to lead the conversation away from fundamentally creepy bits of trivia he’d picked up from the Keep’s oldest stones. “One of my personal trainers was definitely capable of crushing a whole watermelon with just her thighs, so I don’t think that’d be too different? Maybe?” 

Raihan seemed to consider this information for a moment, before he nodded to himself. 

“Put a pin on that, will you?” He said, flashing Leon a teasing smirk. “For the next time we’re feeling drunk and stupid and want to break the internet.” 

Leon grinned, resisting the urge to kiss Raihan for not calling him out on the off-topic remark. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

It took them another fifteen minutes to actually get to Raihan’s office, though, and Leon was not in the least bit embarrassed to admit he was out of breath when they got there. There were three hundred and seven steps total, up the tower he’d just climbed, and his lungs burned ever so slightly by the height. Raihan looked utterly unruffled by the effort, though he did motion Leon to sit at the rather plush sofa by the wide window, which offered a spectacular view of Hammerlocke beneath them. 

Leon wondered, with absent horror as he gave up pretenses and panted slightly, how the hell had the couch made its way up the stairs from hell. 

“Slow down,” Raihan advised, running a soothing hand through Leon’s hair, “you’ll hyperventilate if you’re not careful.” He smiled. “And congratulations on clearing the first hurdle to join Hammerlocke Gym.” The smile turned into a teasing grin as Leon gave him a puzzled look. “Can’t hire if you if you’ll literally _die_ if I ask you to come up my office, don’t you think?” 

“You make people come up here?” Leon asked, vaguely horrified, and Raihan laughed, moving over to a small mini fridge tucked by his desk, out of which he pulled out a cold water bottle and threw it at Leon. 

Leon caught it, and, again, felt himself be consumed by the horrifying thought that _everything in the room_ had to have been taken up the demonic flight of stairs he’d just nearly died to. 

It was, after all, a very nice room. 

Raihan’s desk was massive and solid-looking, dark wood carefully shaped and polished, though there were marks on it, that looked almost like nibbles and Leon realized were probably from pokemon nibbling on it. The dark blue stone of Hammerlocke Keep was covered by thick, plush carpets and a singed, torn tapestry hanging from the wall behind Raihan’s desk. The one bare wall, opposite Raihan’s desk and right next to the door to the stairs, was covered in shelves that held various trophies and awards, though barely if any of them were addressed to Raihan himself, but rather his predecessors, as Gym Leader… the same illustrious line that had held control of the Gym since long before the Gym itself existed. 

The rest of the walls, between the thin, long windows, reminded Leon of Sonia’s house or the Professor’s lab: floor to ceiling bookshelves, packed on tight. He remembered, all at once, how whenever he and Sonia got in trouble, bad enough to be scolded for it, but not so bad they needed to call Dr. June over from Wedgehurst to come patch them up, Professor Magnolia would make them dust the bookshelves extensively: every single book would need to be take down and carefully wiped down with a moist – not wet! – cloth, and the inside of the bookshelf itself had to be scrubbed clean with the zesty mixture he’d never gotten the recipe for but that was supposed to keep bugs and other pests away from them. It usually took them a whole week, to complete the bookshelves in the house, and by then they were suitably repentant for whatever dire crime they had committed. 

Leon looked at Raihan’s bookshelves and estimated a solid three days would be required, to give them that kind of deep cleaning, but he also noted they didn’t really _need_ it, because for all the books looked ancient all around, there wasn’t much dust in sight. Everything looked cleaned and well-looked after, and it exuded the kind of well-worn love that made Leon think of his dad’s shed behind the house, with all his tools and gardening supplies, meticulously organized and properly sorted, at all times. 

“It’s a good deterrent,” Raihan said, bringing Leon back to reality with a little smile, coming to sit on the armrest of the sofa, “for fights and bad behavior, I mean. People really think twice about doing stupid shit if they know once I catch them – and I _will_ , in fact, always catch them – they’re gonna have to climb up all those steps and come explain themselves to me.” He paused, and gave Leon a teasing wink. “It also means I don’t get interrupted as much, when I’m working up here, ‘cause no one wants to climb up all those stairs for something stupid.” 

“You’re a genius,” Leon whispered, feeling his lungs start to relax, at long last, “ _evil_ , but a genius.” 

Raihan had the gall to beam at him, clearly pleased with himself. 

“Thank you,” he said, and then went to fetch a tablet from the desk, before coming back to sit next to Leon, which struck Leon as a subtle way to let him have another moment to compose himself and level his breathing, because it was the kind of quiet, thoughtful thing Raihan would do. “So! You want to work for me, huh.” 

“I think so, yeah,” Leon said, frowning slightly. “I don’t really have a lot of skills, but I do have a lot of time that needs filling up, and it just… it seemed like an option, but I also don’t know if I’m… if I’m asking too much.” 

“I would be more than happy to hire you to work at the rescue,” Raihan said, fingers flicking through apps on his tablet. “I mean, you’re very experienced handling dragons, you’re calm under pressure and you don’t really startle easily, not to mention the fact you’ve _met_ my breeding cluster and none of them tried to eat your face.” He shrugged. “I just don’t know if I would hire you as a Gym Trainer… which is traditionally what you have to be, for me to hire you at the rescue.” Raihan winced. “You have little to no experience with tier-battles and basically no real knowledge of doubles, which is a problem because the primary thing Gym Trainers _do_ is handle the tier-battles around our Gym’s gimmick… and our gimmick is doubles.” 

Leon nodded along, mostly because it was all perfectly true. 

“If I hire you,” Raihan said, nodding back, “I’d have to put you through remedial training until you’re up to speed enough to start pulling your weight around on your own; which would need to be within six weeks, because that’s when your first evaluation would be due, and if you’re not up to speed by then, I will have to fire you.” Raihan raised a hand to rub the tip of his nose. “Even so, I wouldn’t be the one giving you remedial training, just... because I flat out don’t have the time, Lee. I give my kids eight hours a week of training and I really need to fight my schedule with a crowbar to get that much time. I can’t put you with them in those sessions until you _are_ at their level because otherwise no one is really going to get anything out of it, and… _I would hire you_ ,” Raihan said, lowering the tablet and staring at Leon in the eye. “I would, but I need you to understand that if I do, while we’re here, in the Gym, I _will_ always make the best decision for the Gym itself. Because that’s what it means to be a Gym Leader, and I guess what I want to know is if you understand that and are willing to not take it personally, if the time comes when the best thing for the Gym is to ask you to leave.” He swallowed hard. “Because I love you and I _really want you here_ , but I’ve also been thinking about what it might mean, that you’re here. We have a good thing going, Lee, I don’t want us to fuck it up.” 

Leon was silent for a moment, composing his thoughts. It was a habit he’d picked up, from his tenure as Chairman of the League: to listen carefully to every word and then take the moment to process it before he spoke. It was hard to remember, sometimes, but he really could afford the extra seconds to gather his thoughts and make sure he said exactly what he meant. 

“I would be willing to try,” Leon said, leaning back against the sofa, staring at the intricate brick pattern in the ceiling. “I would be willing to put in the time and do my best and _try_. I want to learn doubles, I want to be good enough to do this. But you’re right, I don’t know what it means to be a Gym Trainer. There’s a lot of things I don’t know! And I’m aware I’m only good at very few and this might be one I’m just not made for.” He sighed, tugging the edge of his hat forward, and then pushing it back, because he realized he couldn’t hide his face. Not now. “Basically, I’m game to try… but you’re the Gym Leader here, I defer to your experience and what you think it’s best.” He swallowed hard. “And if you do hire me and you end up having to fire me because I can’t cut it, it’ll be okay. I promise, I’ll be glad I at least gave it a fair shot.” 

Raihan gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Here’s the thing,” he said, sighing, “if I hire you, and then I fire you, because you just couldn’t cut it? I will never hear the end of it. Like, not even from you, I trust you when you say you’d be okay with it.” Raihan laughed awkwardly. “No, but every idiot with a pulse and a social media account will literally _never_ let me hear the end of it.” 

Leon frowned. 

“Why would they care?” He said, on reflex, and then blushed when Raihan gave him a pointed look, because he realized what a stupid thing he’d just said. “I mean… _how_ would they even know?” 

“Well, because Gym Trainers _are_ League Trainers,” Raihan said, head tilted slightly to the side, “ _as you know_ , the League Trainer database is publicly accessible, so anyone who cared to look would see exactly when you were hired, because you’d go back to being active _and_ change title, to Hammerlocke Gym Trainer, and also when, if ever, that ends. You still have a pretty massive fanbase, Lee, and they will absolutely lose their shit, if you go back to active status for any reason.” 

“Oh,” Leon said, and winced, as he realized that, despite how much he’d thought about this, clearly, he hadn’t thought about it nearly enough. 

Raihan pursed his lips for a moment, and then sighed. 

“Look, I actually do want to hire you,” he said, expression wry, “like, not just because I think you’d look cute wearing my colors, but also because if I wanted to be very mercenary about it, I could legit double the budget for our rescue and education efforts, just by shifting two thirds of my advertising budget straight into other stuff and shamelessly using the fact you’re working here to gear up interest and get my metrics up. But if it doesn’t work out, I will legitimately regret this, for _years_ , and that’s unfair.” 

“…what if you didn’t hire me until you were sure it will work out?” Leon asked, frowning slightly. 

“What do you mean?” 

Leon shrugged. 

“What if I go through the six weeks of remedial training _before_ you hire me?” He offered. “I’ll do it, just as if you’d hired me, but nothing official gets touched until after that first evaluation.” 

“Remedial training is 60-hour weeks for _six weeks_ ,” Raihan pointed out, skeptical, “I’m not putting you through that without the basic decency to pay you.” 

Leon blinked. 

“Rai, I still own controlling stakes on both Macro Cosmo and the League,” he said, “money is not… I hadn’t even gotten to thinking about that.” He paused, raising a hand to scratch the corner of his mouth. “Also, my last job had 130-hour weeks and a significantly less pleasant working environment.” Leon watched Raihan open his mouth, seemingly think better of whatever he was going to say, and then close it with a small wince. “I guess you’re just gonna have to live with not very lavish dinners on weekdays.” 

“Oh no,” Raihan said, tone a bit too hard for Leon to read, though he was smiling wryly, “I guess I’m gonna have to be supportive about my boyfriend’s latest crazy idea.” 

Leon snorted. 

“I resent the implication that my ideas are anything but brilliant,” he wrinkled his nose. “I got a nomination as smartest CEO in business for my Chairman duties, y’know?” 

“Yes,” Raihan deadpanned, a little too sharply for a regular joke, “but that’s because you were the _only_ CEO in Galar that year, apparently.” 

Leon did not, unfortunately, have a good comeback for that one. 

* * *

Remedial training, as it turned out, meant in practice that Leon was apprenticed to Raihan’s top three Gym Trainers: the identical triplets that often served as the public face of Hammerlocke when it came to the League and anything else Raihan didn’t handle himself. 

He looked at it as an apprenticeship, because it reminded him of the way his dad used to take in the neighbor kids, when he was little, and taught them to look after the wooloo flocks the same way he did. Leon remembered the realization that he was never going to learn that with weird, crystalized clarity: he’d been seven years old and watching a boy twice his age try their best to wrestle a stubborn dubwool into a sheering station, and realized he could not see himself doing that. Not just because he was doing it wrong – he’d learned, despite it all, a little bit, and the early lessons, he’d found, where the ones one didn’t forget at all – but because… he didn’t want that. Even back then, he’d been good at knowing what he wanted. 

It wasn’t too different, his training, to the training those kids went through, at his dad’s hands: he did as he was told and tried to keep his chin up and his smile in place. After all, _he_ didn’t know what he was doing, that was the whole point of it. 

Aria was his tier-battle teacher. She was pretty harsh and hard to please, but Leon really appreciated her skill at setting up battles, not as a contest of strength, but literal puzzles with specific solutions required to proceed. He probably had more raw knowledge in his head, if only from years of battles and strategies and preparing to face strong opponents, but she used her knowledge in a completely different way than him. Leon conceptualized it as a difference in perspective, which wasn’t a great idea considering how bad he was at that. Nonetheless, he tried his best. 

Sebastian was his official doubles teacher, and unlike his sisters, he was less demanding and a lot more prone to show him exactly where he’d gotten it wrong. He seemed to want Leon to figure things on his own, to reach what he called true synergy. Leon wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, though he was trying. It was surprisingly hard, actually, to think about _teamwork_ , and the way his pokemon could help each other out, when he’d spent so long focused on maximizing each of their skills to make them individually as strong as possible. Sebastian was fond of sacrificing pokemon for the sake of winning a fight and of all those sneaky status and setup moves that reminded Leon keenly of Gloria’s impish use of toxic spikes. 

Camilla just straight up told him what she wanted to done but never seemed to elaborate much on the _how_ , as she served as Leon’s mentor in working at the rescue. Leon figured he would have made a good impression by not being squeamish or nervous about the physical work required for it… had he not accidentally stuck his foot down his throat when she’d questioned him about it, and he’d shrugged and pointed out his parents owned a farm and that when you got down to it, bare bones, the main difference between keeping dragons and keeping wooloo, was that only one of those would charge at you horns first to show affection. As someone who genuinely considered puns a fundamental part of his sense of humor, Leon was used to his jokes landing flat. He was not used to his jokes landing flat because he’d talked about his family… to someone who then proceeded to share their status as an orphan and thus made him feel like a bona fide _monster_. He’d stopped trying to make her laugh, after that. 

After the first two weeks, he had a good grasp on his schedule and a bit of their character, though he got the distinct feeling they were mentoring because Raihan explicitly asked them to, not because they got any real enjoyment out of it. 

They weren’t _friendly_ , per se, but they were impeccably professional and Leon noticed the little details, here and there, in their mannerisms, that reminded him keenly of Raihan. The way Aria tilted her head when she pointed a flaw in Leon’s battle strategy was very reminiscent of the way Raihan did it when he knocked out one of Leon’s pokemon during their battles. And Sebastian had the habit to play with pens and pencils the same way Raihan did, fiddling with them in a practiced way that definitely had to be taught. Camilla dug in her heels whenever they were rushed at by a cranky dragon, and kept calm, even when bites were fainted at her. 

Leon found _he_ liked them, much the same way he’d decided he liked Piers, before he’d properly made friends with him: because they were important to Raihan and anyone who was important to Raihan was important to Leon by default. He wasn’t entirely without sense, of course, and he was keenly aware they did not exactly reciprocate his feelings: he had no grounds to complain about any of their duties, which they carried out with the same kind of ingrained responsibility that Leon could tell was Raihan’s leadership at work, but they didn’t _like_ him. Not personally, not by a long shot. 

Normally, he wouldn’t care: he wasn’t egocentric enough to actually expect everyone, everywhere, to like him. Truth be told, _he_ didn’t like himself most of the time, as it was. But they were important to Raihan and he wanted them to… not actively _dis_ like him, at least. The more he tried to be personable the more closed off they seemed, and Leon remembered Piers’ words, about good and nice, and the fact unflinching niceness did not, in fact, automatically endear him to others. 

The problem, Leon thought somewhat despondently as he brushed sand out of his hair, courtesy of Hubris getting a little playfully rough with him during feeding time, was that he was fundamentally a nice person. 

He was! 

He disliked hurting people or making them uncomfortable. He wasn’t nice just because Rose had taught him to be, the way Piers seemed to be halfway convinced. He was nice because his Nan had always taught him first impressions could be last impressions, and there was nothing harder than changing a bad first impression. Leon had the sinking feeling he’d already screwed that up royally with Raihan’s Gym Trainers, considering his rather ill-advised battle with them, the first time they’d been personally introduced – Raihan had had to call him out on it, after all. 

He risked a look at the other side of the locker room, where the siblings were sitting together, talking in low voices about a video playing in Sebastian’s phone. They looked a lot more relaxed and less… bracing for him to do something stupid, than they did when he was around. Perhaps someone less stubborn than him would consider it a lost cause, but he was determined to complete his training successfully and he was determined to _become_ someone that could stand among them because he’d earned it. Besides, he’d befriended angrier, snarlier things, like a certain feral grimmsnarl in human form. He couldn’t give up just yet. 

He resisted the urge to slap his face, as if preparing to face a battle, and instead took a deep breath before conspicuously making his way to where they were now getting into a heated, hissed argument. 

“Thank you for your hard work today!” Leon said, when they stopped abruptly and noticed he was there, his smile holding for all he was worth. “What are you watching?” 

Aria pursed her lips and Camilla narrowed her eyes, as if to refuse him an answer, but Sebastian blurted it out before his sisters could say something: 

“Alex the Globetrotter uploaded a video about the Watchtower Ruins in the Wild Area,” he explained, his rotom raising up to show Leon the shaky camera footage, “but Aria says it’s staged.” 

Leon blinked and got through perhaps four seconds of the recording before he snorted. 

“Aria would be correct,” he said, nodding, before he offered her a bright smile, “you’ve got an amazing eye for detail!” The triplets blinked at him, heads tilting sideways at the exact same angle, all at once. Leon laughed a bit awkwardly. “Well, that’s not… what the Watchtower Ruins look like, inside.” 

“ _You_ ’ve been inside the Watchtower Ruins?” Camilla asked, in the same skeptical tone she’d used to question Leon’s familiarity with basically anything. 

Leon’s smile weathered that doubt the same way a ground type weathered a sandstorm. 

“Yup,” he said, shrugging slightly and then he blinked, grasping the shape of an idea to ingratiate himself with them. “Would you like to visit them?” 

“The Watchtower Ruins are off limits,” Aria pointed out sharply, in the same tone she used when Leon missed a critical detail in his setup. 

“Not officially, actually, they just happen to be crawling with ghost pokemon,” Leon replied, shrugging. “They’re part of the Wild Area and… well, like most of the Wild Area, except for the Lake of Outrage, they’re more on the… visit at your own discretion side of things.” He offered a bright smile. “I’m not saying I want to get out of our team meeting on Friday morning,” he said, even though most team meetings were really just four hour evaluations of everything he’d managed to screw up during the week, “but we could totally make it a field trip, if you wanted to.” 

He didn’t think they’d agree, without at least some coaxing from him, but he was surprised by the way their eyes narrowed, and he realized they thought he was bluffing. 

“I suppose we couldn’t be safer,” Sebastian pointed out, one eyebrow arched almost challengingly at him, “if someone like former Champion Leon is going to escort us there.” 

Leon did not twitch at the inflection on _former_ , mostly because after living with Piers a couple of weeks, he was sturdier than that. 

“It’ll be a fun adventure!” He said instead, but he was more hopeful than anything else. 

* * *

Leon was not, despite it all, stupid enough to take Raihan’s Gym Trainers on a tour of one of Galar’s most dangerous landmarks without at the very least giving him a heads up. 

Raihan didn’t have any particular objections to the outing, provided Leon made sure to keep them safe – which, of course, he was already going to do – and, bafflingly, that he promised to at least try and get a good picture of them getting spooked – because of course they were going to get spooked. Raihan insisted it would be good for morale, so Leon decided not to argue: he just asked rotom to take care of it, and the little wisp inside his phone seemed more than happy to carry out his job. 

Thus, on Friday, at six in the morning, Leon found himself standing outside Hammerlocke’s train station, primarily because Raihan had woken up early enough to see them off and so Leon hadn’t had to be left to his own devices to figure out the way to the station and potentially delay the trip. They were still wearing their uniforms, when they arrived, but Leon noticed immediately the way their mannerisms changed as soon as Raihan addressed them. 

“Look, if it all fails, just do what Leon says,” he said, hands stuck inside his hoodie and smile tugging at his lips, “sometimes, it’s almost like he knows what he’s doing.” 

“Ow,” Leon laughed, and then grinned when Raihan leaned in to press a loud, dramatic kiss to his cheek. “Go away, brooding pidove,” he added, nudging him away. “We’ll be back in time for lunch.” 

Raihan gathered them all for a nice group selfie, and then Aria and Camilla had to grab one of Leon’s arms each and tug him the right way, when he seemed about to take the wrong turn towards the station. Sebastian saluted Raihan solemnly, before they headed off to board the train. 

“Have you ever been to Motostoke?” Leon asked, as they settled in around a table, Sebastian to his right, boxing him in so he couldn’t wander off, Aria and Camilla across, expressions exactly the same note of wary. 

“Every year,” Camilla said, tone bored, “we come here with Leader Raihan, for the opening ceremony.” 

Small talk was going to be a challenge, then. But, Leon had a two-hour train ride and nowhere else to go. 

“That’s nice,” he said, “do you also go to Wyndon with him for the Championship Cup?” 

“We used to,” Sebastian said, giving him a slightly dirty look, “when he still participated in it.” 

Oh, Leon thought, swallowing back a wince with fifteen years of PR training, right. Raihan had, in fact, skipped on the Championship Cup after Gloria had been crowned. He’d never thought about that from the outside perspective, always focused on his and Raihan’s battles and what they meant. Raihan didn’t need the Championship Cup to fight him, they did that _every Saturday_. They woke up and had breakfast and went to the Stadium and beat the _shit_ out of each other, and then they spent the rest of the day out on dates, at cafes or the movies or just wandering around Hammerlocke. 

And, Leon knew, Raihan didn’t want to be champion… Raihan wanted to beat _him_. But that was the sort of nuance about their rivalry that no one, particularly not magazines and reporters, had ever been able to get, forever characterizing them as being fundamentally _angry_ with each other, like their battles were not the most amazing, fun thing Leon had ever experienced. 

Crap. 

“Right,” Leon said, trying to hold onto his smile. “Any plans on taking on the Gym Challenge yourselves?” 

It was going to be a very long train ride. 

* * *

When they came out of the station, they ran into Kabu on his morning run around the city. 

Leon waved and made small talk, because it was only polite. Kabu was nice, after all. So nice, in fact, that he insisted on buying them breakfast before they set out to the Wild Area, and guided them through the streets to a nice, cozy restaurant that served traditional Hoenn cuisine and which served tea that was positively _divine_. Leon tried to steer the conversation so the siblings were included, though he was surprised when Kabu mentioned his friend, Professor Birch, told him about Hop’s visit to his home region. 

“Seems he had a good time,” Kabu said with a little shrug. He smiled when he saw Leon’s surprised look. “Not everyone enjoys Hoenn,” he explained, as the owner of the restaurant came to sit with them for one last cup of tea. Kabu shared a conspiratorial look with her as he smiled wryly. “Too much water, they say.” 

“Too much water,” the old lady repeated, laughing, and then made Leon’s morning by dropping a tin of tea in his hands with a wink. “But you know what the say. If you have excess water, make tea.” 

“Words to live by,” Leon laughed, “don’t mind if I steal them from you.” 

“Nothing’s stolen when it’s gifted first,” Kabu said, with a bit of a philosophical air. “I hope you have a good hunting, out in the Wild Area today.” 

Leon smiled, and paused to give the siblings a wink before he replied. 

“We’ll try our best!” 

* * *

The Watchtower Ruins were exactly as Leon remembered: massive, imposing and absolutely _crawling_ with ghosts everywhere. 

“What’s with the hats?” Camilla asked, out of the blue, as they walked down the worn, barely still there path towards the ruins, avoiding the worst of the tall grass. 

“What?” Leon asked, pausing to look at her, surprised. 

“What’s with the hats?” Camilla asked, hands on her hips and expression shrewd. “You’ve been wearing a different hat _every single day_.” 

“And not one of them matched your clothes,” Aria pointed out, a little bit snidely. 

“Do you have a different hat for each day of the year?” Sebastian wondered out loud, and Leon realized this was a question they had been pondering over for a while, now, because they all seemed to be waiting expectantly for his reply. 

“Hats are one of the three acceptable personality traits for a Champion to express individuality,” Leon said, in his best lecturing tone, “they make you, and I quote, _approachable_.” Leon beamed at them, as they stared at him, clearly trying to decipher if he meant it or not. Then he felt the tell-tale shiver and he narrowed his eyes, and looked up where a haunter was floating above his head. “Well, hello there, are you going to be our guide for the day?” 

Haunter laughed and then disappeared. Two seconds later, Aria let out a shriek of surprise when it materialized in front of her, hands pulling at its mouth and tongue wiping a long, wet lick across her face, leaving her dazed and tingly all over, but not fully paralyzed. Leon had a full stock of paralyze heals in his bag, just in case. 

“I think that was a no,” Camilla deadpanned, holding Aria close. 

“A yes, actually,” Leon pointed out, “he’s playing more than anything.” Haunter confirmed this by reappearing behind Sebastian and trailing a chilly finger up the back of his neck, causing him to choke on a squeak. “See?” 

“It’s a ghost, Leon,” Camilla said, in the same tone she used whenever Leon got sidetracked and ended up playing with Hubris, instead of scrubbing this or that bit of the enclosure. “You can’t _see_ it, that’s the whole point.” 

Leon smiled, eyes bright, and waited. 

“You _can_ see them,” Sebastian guessed, as Leon rested an arm on thin air, which suddenly materialized into a cackling haunter, who then remained solid enough for Leon to lean on and flash them a victory sign. 

“You didn’t really think Raihan was gonna let you come here without making sure you’re safe, did you?” Leon said, grinning. “You’re _his_ kids, only the best for you!” 

The siblings blushed at that, the exact same shade at exactly the same rate, and then looked sideways and away at the exact same angle. Leon didn’t laugh, but only because he didn’t want to be mean. 

“Can we really go in?” Aria asked, voice slightly hushed. “Into the tower?” 

“I read they’re supposed to be ruins of an old stronghold, from the times of the Darkest Day,” Camilla offered, looking up at the still impressive structure. “The original one, I mean.” 

“I don’t know if it’s really that old,” Leon admitted, fingers absently scratching haunter’s forehead, “but what I do know is that it’s now primarily a pokemon den. …sort of.” He paused, frowning a bit as he tried to figure out the best way to explain it. “There’s not much of the structure itself left inside, by now, but we can go in and check out the first and second floor that are still standing. However,” he added, looking serious, “if we do, there’s a not insignificant chance we’re gonna end up in a raid battle against not a ghost pokemon, but an actual ghost _of_ a pokemon. It’s… weird. You gotta remember to add ghost typing to whatever you see, even if they’re not normally ghost types, and bear in mind, they tend to come off a bit strong.” 

The siblings shared a look, communicating without words for a long moment, before they turned back to look at him and nodded in unison. 

“We’re ready!” They chorused at him, looking determined. 

Leon grinned. 

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?” 

* * *

Leon tried and failed to be surprised that Raihan’s Gym Trainers turned out to be just as much into history as they were into dragons. After all, Hammerlocke’s Gym Leader was the keeper of Galar’s history. The official one, at least, now rewritten and edited to include all of Sonia’s discoveries. 

Leon kept a close eye on them – and the dozens of wisps and other ghosts watching them – as they explored the first floor of the tower, admiring things Leon would have never thought to, like the type of brick used to construct it and the pattern of the windows. They didn’t touch anything – the real things or the small illusions set in place to tempt them – and gave Leon a slightly dirty look when he tried to warn them about it, because of course they knew better. The only treasure they were after, Leon realized, were the pictures and video they were taking. He liked that, and so did most of the ghosts surrounding them: the fact they were respectful in their enthusiasm, that they didn’t try to change anything. 

He wondered, as he followed them around their slow, careful circuit around the first floor of the tower, if they would be game to visit the shrines in the Slumbering Weald, back in Postwick. Or if they would like to take a walk around the diglett sculptures near Stow-on-side or along the frozen shores around the Circhester Bay shrine. Well, he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to get through this outing in one piece, first, but maybe… afterwards, they could do it again. 

They looked like they were having fun and their bickering was still hushed but not so guarded anymore, so Leon was basking in that a bit. 

Then the red light of a raid battle flooded the tower, and Leon found himself standing among them as a golurk appeared before them, dynamaxed and ready to fight. 

“Is that a ghost?” Aria asked, fingers clenched tightly around an ultraball. “Or, like, _a ghost?_ ” 

Leon laughed, throwing out dragapult. 

“Yes!” 

* * *

It wasn’t until they were back in Hammerlocke, sitting around a restaurant table and excitedly telling Raihan all about their trip, that Leon really got to see the triplets light up and act their age. 

They shared photos and stories and talked all over each other, lively and delighted as opposed to severe and strict as they always were, when they talked to him. Leon didn’t take it personally, mostly because Raihan was definitely enjoying himself and encouraging them with little probing questions to keep them talking, as well as complimenting them on their pictures and their research. 

“Thank you for today!” They told him, solemn but sincere, as they walked out of the restaurant and prepared to go their separate ways, since Raihan gave them the rest of the day off. 

Leon beamed at them. 

“Thank you for coming along,” he said, “and for taking care of me!” 

He was still waving them off as they walked away, when Raihan dropped an arm around his shoulders. 

“Did you have fun today?” He asked, leaning in to press a kiss to Leon’s cheek. 

“I did, actually,” Leon replied, sneaking an arm around Raihan’s waist as they started the walk back home. “Your kids are amazing, I don’t think I’ve told you that enough.” 

“They are and you have,” Raihan sighed, proud and preening. “I’m glad you had a good day,” he added, expression turning wry, “because Piers’ dumbfuck gifts came in, all seven thousand of them.” 

Leon groaned. 

“Oh _no_.” 

“Yup,” Raihan laughed, resigned, “we don’t have a yard anymore, Lee.” 

“I know he’s your friend,” Leon began, leaning his head back into Raihan’s arm, “hell, at this point he’s _my_ friend, but I’m actually going to kill him, Rai.” 

“Afraid I can’t let you do that,” Raihan sighed, tugging Leon further against his side as they turned left away from the main street, “I called dibs on strangling him with my bare hands.” 

* * *

Leon’s life was filled with training, training and more training, for the next three weeks. 

It was also filled with the stupid balls with his own fish-eyed stare plastered on them that looked like the sort of cursed crap that served as origin story for a brand-new ghost pokemon. Seven thousand of them, in fact, because Piers was a colossal ass. Raihan thought they were cute, which was the worst possible thing in the world, as far as Leon was concerned. 

Leon’s only consolation was the fact the triplets seemed to have warmed up to him, after all, and the fact that Raihan’s sandaconda continued to _not_ like him and instead made a point to pop the stupid balls with his coils while maintaining eye contact with him. Sure, one of those was an actual threat to his life, but it was also the one that meant the number of stupid balls flooding the house was steadily going down. 

“You’re ruining the aesthetic,” Camilla told him, the Thursday before he was due to receive his final evaluation, and thus whether he’d end up getting hired or not. 

Leon, who was busy squeezing water out of his hair – thanks, dragonair! – paused and turned to look at her, surprised. 

“What.” 

“We have an aesthetic,” Camilla said, hands on her hips, “as Gym Trainers.” 

“I mean, I know,” Leon said, blinking, “but I don’t get a uniform unless I get hired.” 

“I’m not talking about the uniform,” Camilla replied, rolling her eyes with a flourish. “It’s about your _hair_.” 

Leon paused. 

“But I _like_ my hair,” he said, fingering through it as he tried his best to untangle it a little so it dried better. 

Camilla pursed her lips. 

“I guess we could just… slick it back,” she said, giving Leon a dubious look. “Like we do Seb’s.” 

Leon chose not to point out the fact she was taking it for granted he was actually going to get hired, because at the end of the day, Raihan was the one who had to make that choice. 

“Okay?” He replied, not very convinced. 

Which was why he never did actually get that last session with Sebastian, considering they all ended up going through two whole bottles of hair gel, trying their best to style his hair back the way they did theirs. Aria popped in to see what the commotion was about, and ended up recording the whole thing, looking amused as her siblings slowly lost their cool in their fight against Leon’s hair. 

“How,” Camilla demanded, glaring at Leon’s face, when the little hair wings at each side of his face sprung right back up, despite the heavy coating of gel. “Just… how!” 

“Brand integrity above all,” Leon said, laughing when they finally gave up. 

“God, you’re so weird,” Sebastian snorted, covering his face with his hands. 

Leon beamed at them. 

“I like to use the word _quirky_ ,” he said, eyebrows arched. 

“You would,” Aria deadpanned, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I suppose we’re just going to have to get used to it.” 

Leon opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Raihan popping his head into the locker room. 

“Oi,” he called out, “what are you lot up to?” 

“No~thing!” Leon chorused along with them, aiming for the precise register of absolute innocence that made Raihan frown on reflex. 

“We’re discussing brand aesthetics,” Leon added, when Raihan walked into the room, clearly not convinced by their assurances. 

Raihan took a good look at the graveyard of hair gel and the fact Leon was sitting right in the center of ground zero, and sighed. 

“I was going to give you the rest of the day off,” he said, eyebrows arched, “considering the MC people are here to check on the power plant, but now I’m not sure I want to unleash you four on Hammerlocke without warning.” He closed his eyes and jerked a thumb in the direction of the door. “Out before I think better of it.” 

“Thank you for your hard work, sir!” The triplets chorused, laughter folded in their voices as they saluted him, and immediately scurried out of the room without looking back. 

“That means you too, Lee,” Raihan said, eyebrows arched as he offered a hand to pull Leon off his place on the floor, where he’d been patiently sitting and letting the siblings fuss about his hair. 

“I guess I can use the rest of the day washing this off my hair,” Leon pointed out, fingering the tacky strands of his bangs, stubbornly refusing to curl back, no matter how much gel was used to try and mat them back. “And maybe make something nice for dinner?” 

“Maybe just take it easy,” Raihan laughed, and then leaned in to press his mouth to the corner of Leon’s grin. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow and all that.” 

Leon turned his head to kiss Raihan properly. 

“Do your best, Leader Raihan,” he said, “I’ll be waiting home.” 

“Away with you, horrible temptation,” Raihan laughed, gently pushing him away, “I’ve got work to do.” 

Leon was grinning as he walked away. 

* * *

Leon got Acceptable in his evaluation for the three skills he’d been mentored on, along with a somewhat baffling note at the end of his assessment that simply read _personality: hats_. 

Raihan asked him if he was really sure he wanted to commit to working in Hammerlocke, and Leon promised him he did, again. 

They spent most of Friday sorting through the paperwork – Leon did not cry, when he reactivated his League membership and it automatically settled his number back to the old _353_ , but he felt a weird urge to, and he decided to take it was a sign he’d done the right thing – and figuring out details like payment and duties and schedules. 

On Saturday, after their weekly battle, they visited the uniform shop and got into a bit of an argument about what sort of leggings were acceptable to wear, with Hammerlocke colors. Eventually Leon walked out with four sets of uniforms. Apparently, he was expected to go through them before the month was out, the lady at the counter told him, on account of all the sandstorms. Raihan laughed at that, and took the chance to put in an order for new uniforms for himself, as well. 

“ _Huh_ ,” Raihan said in a weird tone, when they got home, and Leon finally showed him the combination he’d gone with, in the end. 

“What?” Leon asked, turning around, tugging at the shirt and wondering if he’d messed something up. “Raihan!” He choked out, when he was unceremoniously picked up and then thrown onto their bed without warning. “Hey!” 

Raihan was leering at him. 

“Guess what, Lee,” he said, crawling into bed after him, eyes bright, “you look _real nice_ in my colors.” 

They had to order take out for lunch, and by then it was really just dinner. 

Leon was not complaining, though. 


	6. momentum and inertia

Hammerlocke Gym offered, among many other things, trainer classes specializing in double battles for all skill levels. 

The Masters class was led by Raihan himself, three one-hour sessions a week that were also attended by the Gym Trainers themselves along the other handful of people who were really interested in becoming experts of the format. There were three tiers of intermediary classes, two two-hour sessions each, which the Gym Trainers shuffled between themselves to lead. Though Sebastian had a clear preference for teaching and often ended up leading most of the sessions in any given week, unless they had to be double-booked for any reason. That left the beginner tiers, two hour-long sessions a week per class, which had coincidentally exploded in popularity around the same time as Leon officially joined Hammerlocke Gym: mostly due to Raihan’s shamelessness in taking pictures of Leon in full uniform while he went around his duties in the Gym, posting those pictures to the Gym’s official account, and then calling that the advertising campaign for the quarter. Normally Sebastian would be in charge of beginners as well, but the class went from two groups of six people each, to six groups of ten people each, and that was just too much for him to handle along the intermediate tiers. 

Besides, the real attraction was to have Leon involved, so he ended up taking over of the beginner tier, with Sebastian serving as support whenever he needed it. 

It was surprisingly fun, even if it wasn’t really what Leon had expected when he’d joined the Gym. He was still a sucker for taking care of the dragons in the rescue enclosure – and Camilla still felt pretty comfortable leaving the worst of the cleanup tasks to him, though he didn’t think it was bullying anymore, so much as them figuring out how to work around each other – but there was something amazing about showing people a whole new way to enjoy pokemon battles. And Leon _loved_ pokemon battles. 

Though he enjoyed working with all of them and he tried his best to get along with them, Leon ended up getting closest to Sebastian – still not _Seb_ , though, because only Aria and Camilla could call him that without him bristling a little. Close enough they were almost friends, even. 

Or at least close enough he was willing to ask Leon for help with the graduation party for one of his courses. 

Leon had gladly agreed, because he liked parties and because he liked that his fellow Gym Trainers felt comfortable relying on him. He just hadn’t know how different logistics looked so close to the ground, so to speak. He was used to organizing parties and celebrations, but not to the point of actually doing the decorations himself. 

“How did you know?” Sebastian asked him, holding the ladder in place as Leon slowly and meticulously went through the process of hot-gluing things into the ceiling of the classroom they used for larger groups. 

Dragapult was holding onto the box of stuff he had to go through, with the dreepies helpfully passing along things to him, while mimikyu was plopped at the top of the ladder, eager to hold onto the glue-gun while Leon sorted his way through a bright, shiny rope of tinsel. 

“Mmm?” Leon asked, waving off bits of tinsel off his face. 

“How did you know?” Sebastian said, carefully not looking at him. “That you had… feelings, for Leader Raihan?” 

Leon choked on a self-deprecating laugh. 

“Oh, god,” he said, burying his face into the decorations in his hands, on reflex, “I am the worst possible person you could have this conversation with.” 

“I’m sorry!” Sebastian squeaked, unsure, “I didn’t mean to overstep-“ 

Leon looked down at him and laughed. 

“No, I mean… I mean _everyone knew_ before I did,” he confessed, sheepish. “It just sort of happened on its own and one day I looked back and… well. You know. It was there.” 

Sebastian was giving him a dubious look. 

“Really?” 

Leon shrugged and went back to gluing decorations to the ceiling. 

“Really.” He paused a moment to pet a dreepy that looked hopefully at him, little ornament hanging off its mouth, and then sighed. “Some people just know, as it happens, I guess.” 

Sebastian was quiet for a long moment, before he sighed, head dropping forward a little. 

“I might… be one of those,” he admitted, a splash of color bright on the bridge of his nose. He looked up at Leon with narrowed eyes. “But you didn’t hear me say that.” 

Leon laughed and then grinned down at him. 

“Hear what?” 

Sebastian pushed his glasses up his nose defiantly. 

“Exactly,” he scoffed, and then shot a calculating look at the doorway. “Do you know if they’ve fixed your desk yet?” 

Leon snorted. 

His desk needed fixing mostly because he’d gotten caught in the crossfire of a rather vicious prank war between the siblings, which had culminated with Leon walking into the staff room on Friday to find his desk suspended from the ceiling, some thirty feet up in the air, because the staff room was a refurbished hall and had ceilings to match its historical significance. He had no idea how Aria and Camilla had gotten it done, but the fact every knickknack on his desk was carefully placed back where he’d left it had delighted him beyond words. They’d even set up a pulley of sorts to raise a chair so he could actually do some semblance of work. 

Raihan had been slightly less delighted, though he didn’t ask questions and merely asked that whoever was responsible made sure it was undone by the end of the week. Leon was slightly sheepish about the whole affair, considering they had apparently gotten fined by the League for unsafe working conditions, but Raihan’s good humor over the whole thing meant he was trying not to worry about it and instead follow the siblings’ lead as far as how to handle the situation. Though Raihan had asked pointblank if he was being bullied, in one of their little check-ins afterwards, and Leon had to awkwardly explain he’d rather taken the whole thing as a gesture of acceptance, which had apparently amused Raihan quite a bit. 

“Probably?” Leon guessed, shrugging. “I haven’t gone into the staff room yet today.” 

Mostly because that involved going through the literal nightmare labyrinth that was Hammerlocke Keep and into the enclosure, which was always a challenge to cross in and of itself, considering Leon felt legitimately bad if he didn’t properly greet every dragon that came to say hi to him as he walked past. And that was a lot of dragons, usually. He’d worked with Raihan into designing his schedule so the classes were in the mornings, which he was always on time for because Raihan was there to walk him to the right room, and then he had the rest of the day to figure out rescue duties and paperwork, at his own leisure. Outside his classes, so long as his tasks for the day were completed before he went home, no one cared how long it took him to do it or in what order he did them. 

No one got mad at him when he got lost, either. Camilla had asked him about it, maybe a little snidely, but once Leon explained that it wasn’t a matter of not paying attention, so much as it was his brain having trouble parsing space properly, she’d taught him how to read the walls: the subtle coloration changes in the bricks, their size and the patterns they made, and how all together they painted a clear picture of what section of the Keep he was in. That way, even if he couldn’t find his way out on his own, he could drop a message into their group chat and tell them exactly where he was, so someone could help if he needed it. He didn’t _have_ to ask for help, but it was there, if he wanted it. He didn’t know how to explain why that specific difference was significant, but it was. 

It was nice, working at Hammerlocke. Leon was grateful every time he stumbled on the thought, and he did so _often_. 

“Well,” Sebastian said, “ball’s in our court, so to speak.” 

“Raihan said no more pranks,” Leon reminded him, one eyebrow arched. 

“He said no more pranks that resulted in _fines_ ,” Sebastian pointed out. He sniffed under Leon’s stare. “I found a video on how to make a glitter bomb and I know where Aria keeps the keys to the big filing cabinet they’re sharing.” 

“That sounds terrible,” Leon laughed, done with the stretch of ceiling he could comfortably reach, and started climbing down the ladder to move it a few feet away and start again. “Please, tell me more.” 

“It’s only terrible if we screw up and it blows up on us instead of them,” Sebastian pointed out, rather haughtily. He shifted tones almost immediately, a habit Leon had picked up all three siblings shared, since they were apparently used to having two or even three concurrent conversations going on at the same time between them. “So what did you do, once you knew you had feelings for him?” 

It was a little bit unsettling at first, Leon had to admit, but once he got used to it, it wasn’t so bad. It kept him on his toes, if nothing else. 

“Well,” he replied, climbing up the ladder resolutely, “I told him.” 

Sebastian gave him another skeptical look for that. He was very good at those, Leon reckoned, the best out of the three, in fact. 

“Just like that?” 

Leon laughed. 

“Okay, so maybe I had to build up my nerve a little, but…” He shrugged. “Basically, yeah. Honesty is the best policy, I reckon.” 

“Well, that’s easy to say for you,” Sebastian retorted, looking put out. “Considering the results.” 

Leon thought of Hop and Gloria and the video of their latest battle that his mum shared with him, because the two were too busy getting excited about their battle to think about recording it, much less sharing it with anyone. 

He shrugged. 

“Maybe,” Leon said, and then grinned. “But I am, on occasion, really brilliant, so I might be onto something here.” 

“Hm, maybe,” Sebastian replied, clearly unconvinced. Then he switched gears again and stared up at Leon with wide eyes. “What if we used _edible_ glitter?” 

“Where would you even get edible glitter?” Leon asked, head tilted to the side. 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. 

“You ask the internet, _d’uh_.” 

* * *

“Am I going to have to get angry, Mia?” 

Leon shot his phone a dirty look, though he smiled wryly at rotom so he knew it wasn’t aimed at _him_. 

“That’s rude, Leon,” Mia replied, laughing. “Particularly when this is a courtesy call.” 

“Can you blame me?” Leon asked, sighing as he picked up his brush and went back to try and get the last remnants of glitter out of his hair. He’d been doing that for an entire week now, and despite the showers and the fact it was supposed to dissolve in water, _he kept finding more_. Raihan kept laughing at him and calling it sufficient karma payback for the absolute nightmare that was the staff room. “You only call me when something’s on fire.” 

“And who did I learn that from?” She shot back, clearly amused. “Yes, Leon, you’re going to have to get angry, but if it’s any consolation, not at me. I just hung up with Jenna, I reckon she’ll be looking for you sometime today.” 

“Fuck,” Leon hissed without thinking, and then felt his face flush when she laughed. “You didn’t hear that.” 

“I did, matter of fact,” she said, and she sounded terribly amused in a way that made Leon grip his brush tighter. “Why did you choose Jenna for her post, if you’re so scared of her?” 

“I’m not _scared_ of her,” Leon spluttered, and then hissed, realizing he was not going to be able to carry on the conversation in the bathroom without eventually waking Raihan up a whole hour and a half before his alarm was due. “The _board_ is scared of her,” he corrected, putting down the brush and pulling up his hair into a sloppy bun, at least for the time being. He headed downstairs. “Which is great, considering she’s supposed to be keeping them in line.” 

“Well, since you’re _clearly_ not scared of her,” Mia replied, in that taunting, amused tone she’d used when she’d called in to congratulate Leon on his return to the League, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to help with whatever she needs.” She paused significantly. “How’s your desk, by the way?” 

“Goodbye, Mia,” Leon spluttered, pressing a hand to his face, “have a wonderful day.” 

She was laughing, even as he hung up. 

* * *

Leon got the call sometime mid-morning and offered to pay for lunch if Jenna promised not to come to Hammerlocke. 

He wasn’t _scared_ of her. 

She wasn’t a scary person, per se. She was smart and cunning and just ruthless enough to get things done, even when people were complaining or dragging their feet. He’d chosen her for the job precisely because she had those qualities, and an unflinching sense of right and wrong. She’d spent about as long as he’d been Champion, auditing Macro Cosmo and repeatedly pointing a finger exactly at everything dubious and frankly corrupt Rose had done to amass his empire, and Rose had responded exactly like one would expect him to: tainting her credibility and pushing for her silence in all ways possible. She was angry and bitter and Leon was normally _loathe_ to work with people like that, but she’d kept him honest, when he became Chairman, and as he stepped down and dismantled his post, he created one just for her, so she could continue keeping Macro Cosmo honest and hopefully avoid another disaster like Rose. Her only job was to sit at the table with the other CEOs of the separate entities he’d created when he broke up the Macro Cosmo conglomerate and gave them a measure of independence even if they were still intimately linked in their function as providers for Galar, and veto their choices if she felt they were wrong. 

The board hadn’t liked that. 

Leon had found an almost unsettling amount of pleasure in reminding the board they didn’t get a say in it, not after they all collectively enabled Rose for decades. People like Jenna, who were committed to the truth, no matter how ugly it turned out to be, who wanted things sorted out, not just politely pushed aside, that was the kind of people Leon thought should be in charge. Even if he ended up being wrong and it became a disaster, at least none of them were going to start the end of the world out of misplaced mania about an energy crisis they personally couldn’t fix. Jenna least of all. 

But she was angry and bitter and not the least bit apologetic about it, and Leon often ended up drained to the point of lethargy when he had to spend significant amounts of time with her. 

Guiltily, he knew damn well it was because she always made him realize he could do things better, work a little harder, and he always felt terrible for the urge to point out he already _was_ working hard and trying to be better. It wasn’t a great feeling. 

“Oleana’s become a problem,” Jenna said in greeting, as Leon finally sat in front of her at a small restaurant in the outskirts of Motostoke, and it did little to change his impression of the kind of conversation they were going to have. 

“Hi Jenna,” Leon said wryly, “why has Oleana become a problem?” 

“She’s doing community service,” Jenna replied, lips pressed into an annoyed line, “at Galar Mine 1. She’s been lodging it on Rose’s behalf.” 

“Ah,” Leon replied, wincing. “I see the point.” 

“The point, Leon,” Jenna went on, gesturing with her fork rather threateningly, “is that the mine is dangerous and slanted to be closed _three weeks ago_. And yet it’s still open, because she’s still there. If she’s not gone by tomorrow, they’re going to remove her forcefully. And you know how that’s going to end.” 

Leon did know. 

In the aftermath of his ascension to Chairman, Leon had seen first hand how angry people truly were, about Rose and Macro Cosmo and everything they represented. He’d had to work closely with law enforcement and face the very real possibility that a lot of people he’d spent years working with were going to end up in a pretty precarious situation, legally speaking. And then Rose had looked at Leon in the eye and told the people interrogating him that no one had known what he’d done. No individual person in the entirety of his empire knew exactly what he was doing. Leon was almost sure he wasn’t really lying, for the most part. Rose had commanded loyalty by making people feel special and indebted to him for noticing how special they were. All those things Jenna had spent literal decades bringing up kept being brushed off because no one had seen anything of the sort, and it was her word against his, always. 

The only person that Leon could think of, that might have known what Rose had been planning was Oleana. 

But Rose had pointedly ignored her in all his commentary, and she’d been rather hurt when she’d stepped up to help Raihan try and control the dynamaxed pokemon going on a rampage in Hammerlocke, while Rose released Eternatus. Leon had known that people wanted blood. They wanted a face to spit on, and Rose was entirely out of their reach once the International Police got involved. He’d made the choice, backed by Jenna, to not let them scapegoat Oleana for what Rose had done. Not because he liked her or she was his friend, but because no one deserved to shoulder the weight of Rose’s crimes, but Rose himself. 

And while he’d been Chairman, it had been fine. 

Oleana recovered in a hospital, away from the spotlight and once she checked out, she effectively disappeared. Almost as if she understood what Leon had done for her, and what would happen, if she stuck around. For a while, Leon was almost sure she’d left Galar entirely. 

Except, now she was back, and it hadn’t been long enough yet and the scars of the continued Rose scandal were nowhere near healed enough that several media outlets wouldn’t swoop in at the chance to tear her apart, limb by limb. 

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Leon admitted, “I’m not–“ 

“Just do what you always do,” Jenna said, succinct and to the point, as always, “talk people into doing things they’d much rather not do.” 

* * *

“You look stupid.” 

Leon flinched on reflex at the chiding tone, if nothing else because he’d heard it often and for so very long he couldn’t help himself. Still, he wasn’t sixteen and arguing how cool tattoos would look on the arms his training routine was already helping him sculpt. He offered a wry smile instead and reminded himself that, whatever Oleana might think about it, he was proud of his Hammerlocke uniform. Just as proud, matter of fact, as he’d ever been of his Champion one. 

“Hello, Oleana.” 

She didn’t, matter of fact, look well, but she definitely didn’t look like someone who’d spent three weeks camping in the depths of a derelict mine. Mostly, Leon thought, she looked tired in that deeply familiar, manic way that came with deadlines crashing in and no end in sight to it all. Of course, he had been infinitely more likely to succumb to that kind of thing that her, back when they were both Chairman Rose’s closest collaborators. Oleana was always in control, three steps ahead, and Leon always felt he was fumbling his way through trying to keep up and not cause her more work than he already did just by existing. 

It was surprising to find out she too could fall prey of that kind of stress. 

“Go on,” she said, putting down the pickaxe she was holding and leaning most of her weight on it, “get on with it.” 

She was taller than him – she was taller than everyone he knew, except maybe Raihan – and he’d always found himself irrationally prone to squirming when she looked at him _just so_. Maybe because she’d been his direct handler, once his parents left. The one person Rose introduced him to, and asked him to obey no matter what. After all, she always knew better, as far as Rose was concerned. 

Deep down, Leon was reminded all of a sudden that it had been Jenna’s insistence that had convinced him that Oleana shouldn’t be made a scapegoat for Rose. Because he’d never liked her much, not the way she always made him feel ever so slightly uncomfortable inside his own skin, like he was just barely acceptable but never truly good enough, for anything. She’d made choices, just like he had. And sure, he hadn’t made a choice to disrupt Rose’s plans until the very end, but he _had_ made that choice. She… had chosen to aid Raihan, amidst the Darkest Day, sure, but she hadn’t spoken up against Rose. All the roundabout inquiries and the complexities of Rose’s trial… it could have all been avoided, if Oleana had chosen to speak up. 

He resented that, he realized, and the realization was almost as novel as it was unwelcome, considering the task at hand. 

“I’m not here to do… whatever it is you think I’m here to do,” Leon said, licking his lips. “I’m trying to help.” 

“You would, yes,” she said, eyes shrewd, “but the question is who?” 

He wanted to say _her_ , and he knew that was… not a lie, but only true from the right angle and with the right approach. He was helping Jenna, because Jenna was trying to help Oleana… but even then, it wasn’t really about Oleana. He didn’t know why the realization made him flinch, almost ashamed. 

“You know what they’ll do to you,” he said, instead. “If you show yourself like this.” 

“Yes,” she replied, and stood very straight, tall even without her heels, and it reminded Leon of aegislash bracing to tank a hit. “But every bit of anger, of retribution, they take out on me, they will not take on Mr. Rose.” 

Leon looked at her, _really_ looked at her, the way he’d been told he shouldn’t, once he became Champion, because it was creepy and invasive and bad. He looked at her, golden eyes sharp, and _saw_. The gastly frowned at him, floating up somewhere above her shoulder, annoyed at the scrutiny over what was apparently a suitable meal. Leon narrowed his eyes until it disappeared, not keen on picking a fight with him. 

“Bullshit,” Leon said, eyes narrowed. “You’re smarter than that. You know they’ll tear you to bits and move on to the next thing without a care. Rose doesn’t matter. You just want to self-destruct and not own up to it.” 

Her hands shifted, holding onto the pickaxe, just a twitch, but Leon felt the intent in it and dug in his heels. She knew how to use that, he knew. Not just from three weeks pretending volunteer work was somehow going to absolve Rose from the crime of trying to unleash apocalypse on them. Just like Leon still knew how to wrestle a dubwool into a shearing station, it was something from before. Before Rose and their role in the machinery of Rose’s Macro Cosmo. 

“You’re being insightful again,” Oleana pointed out, sharp for a moment, before deflating. She let go of the pickaxe and stepped away from it entirely. “It doesn’t matter, it was always going to end this way.” 

“This way, _how?_ ” Leon asked, not in the least bit reassured. 

After all, Oleana’s true, devastating strength was not rooted in the fact she could swing a pickaxe hard enough to splinter rock. Or even in pokemon battles. No, even though she could do both quite well, it was her words that had always been the deadliest thing about her. 

“In ruin,” she said, and her head tilted forward a sliver but it was enough to break the damning strictness of her posture and make her look defeated instead. “I overstepped, it couldn’t end any other way.” 

He loathed the way she refused to speak her mind and say what she meant. He loathed the way she said just enough to get him thinking, but not enough to _know_. She was always like that, he thought, and it was easier, now, to be angry about it, than before. He’d never been angry at her – it wasn’t allowed, Oleana was near the same as the Chairman, in his mind, and one certainly never got angry at the Chairman – but now he was. He was angry at how much better she was, at soaking in her lessons. How much more grown up she looked, so much faster than him. She’d always been taller than him, steady two inches, since he was ten, til they stopped growing. It wasn’t just the heels, but the way she carried herself, self-assured and confident and knowledgeable. 

And every new thing Rose taught him or asked of him, that he didn’t did right at once – he was only good at pokemon battles, it was the one thing he could always do well, everything else was a struggle, a tedium, a mess – it was always accompanied by the unflattering comparison: Oleana did it so well, why couldn’t Leon? Oleana was good and obedient and smart and poised and dignified, why wasn’t he? Why couldn’t he learn? 

If Oleana had his talent for pokemon battles, Leon thought cynically, Rose would have had no use for him at all. And then the thought congealed, scabbed over like blood on a wound, hardened into substance: Rose had use for them, separately, to do what he didn’t want to or couldn’t do himself. They were tools, sharpened and looked after, surgically deployed on each occasion. It was the piece that was missing, he realized, the edge to complete the window, from which he could look at himself, the whole, awkward, disastrous mess that was himself. 

That was why it was so hard, he reckoned, to be a person. He hadn’t been one, in fifteen years. Just a tool, in someone’s desk drawer – Rose’s desk drawer. 

“Oh,” he said, soft and nonchalant. Jolted into reality by the way she narrowed her eyes at him, he blurted out the words without thinking: “How did it feel? To do something other than what you were told to?” She seemed to trip on his question, disarmed by it entirely. He swallowed hard. “I was very scared, the first time I did. It was one thing, to do my own thing, for small things. But… to make a choice, and have it matter. It was scary.” 

She pursed her lips and in the space of a breath and the next, caught up to him. They were good at that, he knew, they had been… trained together. Taught how to balance each other out. They were cogs in the machinery, as the Chairman used to say. He pushed and she pulled, and vice versa. He knew she’d reached his point, when she sat down, a graceful fold of limbs and then she was looking up at him, back against the rock wall. If her hair were lose, it would be touching the ground, but she’d braided it up into a knot atop her head, because that was the sensible thing to do. 

“I was angry,” she said, “and I acted on it. But it came to nothing.” She gave him an indifferent look, when she added: “You resigned, after all.” 

He wondered how he didn’t realize it before. Of course Rose would have not transferred his fortune to him, his power. Rose wanted to control and own and _consolidate_. But he’d gone mad, in the end, so it was just convenient, to take it at face value. So many things they just… rolled with, that first week after Gloria and Hop stopped the Darkest Day. It was so much, though. It was so much all at once, and the causes and consequences and the screaming, and he remembered sitting there at the table – of course he was, he had three broken ribs but he was Champion and no else knew what to do, like being good at pokemon battles meant he knew anything about anything else – and telling them to just accept it. To just take everything at face value because the alternative was to investigate themselves into a screaming pile of ashes, once Galar was done imploding. 

So they took it for granted: that Rose had enough presence of mind to transfer assets and ownership and bequest the entirety of his fortune and power to him, that this mattered and should be honored, even though Rose was the reason the entire region was on the brink of collapse. That he was somehow qualified to do anything at all with that power, besides crumple inside out and collapse into a singularity of panic. 

Gingerly, cautiously, ready to stop if he overstepped, he let himself down and sat next to her. 

From up close he could feel the echo of the feast that gastly had been sampling. Ghosts latched onto strong emotions, negative ones mostly. He remembered, all at once, when he’d been small and his eyes had first started to gleam golden as opposed to yellow, like Hop’s, that he’d sat on his Nan’s knee and asked her why ghosts always went for big negative emotions. She’d explained people did not know how to feel happiness freely, did not let themselves bask in joy, quite the same way they did grief and rage. He had thought that was stupid, and decided instead to be happy almost out of spite. He’d been four and full of contextless knowledge, whispers stuck in the back of his head he hadn’t still fully learned to separate from his own thoughts. But he’d declared it, and it became truth. Like water run against a rock, worn down into a path. 

Leon wondered what that child would have become, without Chairman Rose there, to show him the way. What other things he might have declared into truth? 

“What did you expect me to do?” He asked, folding his knees up so he could lean in and rest his chin on them. “Once I became Chairman?” 

“I thought you’d burn it all down, let them all see the ugly truths in everything,” she leaned back, head tilted so she could study the veins of different rocks along the ceiling. “But I forgot your nature is not rotten, like mine.” 

He should have said her nature wasn’t rotten. He should have offered pithy platitudes about the goodness in her. He should have done something to convey all those things he didn’t know the words for because he’d never been good at it. 

“You don’t have to stay anything he made you,” he said, looking at her over the corner of his eye. “You know? You probably know. I’m just… someone had to remind me. I don’t have to be anything he made me.” 

“You were fine, before he got to you,” she said, and then pointedly looked away. “I was not.” 

“You don’t have to be that, either,” he said firmly, rather than argue the point, because he didn’t know who she’d been, before Rose introduced her to him a chilly winter morning in Circhester. “You can, point in fact, self-destruct gloriously if you want to. I’d just rather you didn’t… involve everyone else in it.” 

“Out of sight, out of mind, of course,” she snorted, but she didn’t sound offended. “You’ve never cared much for me.” 

“Well, we never had to care for each other,” he pointed out, wincing. “We just had to do as we were told. But I didn’t mean it that way. It’s not… it’s not their fault, that you’re angry. Or self-destructing. You don’t get to punish them just because you can’t punish him.” 

“I shouldn’t…” She trailed off. It was rare, for her, to not finish a thought, deliver it inexorable and final as a proclamation of war. It was her talent, that he was forever envious of, the way she commanded words to say precisely what she meant, and how she always knew how to articulate exactly to the minute detail. She smiled, looking down at him from the corner of her eye. “He never did anything to us that we didn’t make a conscious choice to let him do.” 

He opened his mouth, silent note caught in the back of his throat, and then he swallowed it, one roll of barbed wire at the time. It was true – the truth he kept coming back to, every time he stumbled on another little thing that made him angry and furious, like he had any right to be bitter and hateful, when he knew he didn’t. Couldn’t. It was _true_ and he knew it, deep in his bones, carved by repetition – I choose this – his talisman against the bottomless pit of rage compressed into a thick crust sank deep inside his lungs. Choice meant no bitterness, no raging, endless fury making it hard to breathe. 

It was true, and yet it sounded so _fake_ out her mouth. So nonsensical. 

_We were ten_ , he, Leon, didn’t say. 

But he thought it. 

It was a very quiet thought. Insidious. It carried with it a legion of questions attached, things he’d never thought of – never questioned at all, they were delivered to him with such certainty – but now he did, sudden and unsettling all at once. 

“Buyer’s remorse,” Leon said, into his knees, and did not look at her in the eye when she startled. “It’s okay, I think, if we have buyer’s remorse. We made shitty choices and now we want our money… our time back.” 

His voice was flippant and a touch airy, and he knew his eyes were perhaps a touch more golden than normal. Like he was talking about buying shoes half a size too small, and not all the terrible, wondrous things they’d had to make do with, over fifteen years of Rose casually setting them on course to an end he never bothered to explain. 

“We don’t get to take it back,” Oleana replied, eyes sharp. “We don’t get to pretend we didn’t–“ 

“But we get to choose differently, now,” Leon interrupted. “Better.” He buried his face into his knees. “He’s gone and I choose to believe we can do better without than with him, that there’s still the rest of our lives left, to sort it out.” 

There was a long silence, punctuated by the sound of stray drops dripping in the background, somewhere far. The mine was scheduled to be closed down, after all, so there was no more machinery whirring in it, no more people calling out, working, going about their business. It was… peaceful, almost. 

Like a graveyard, Leon thought, only less noisy. 

“I was there,” Oleana whispered, “when he saw Eternatus for the first time. I saw how much he… _wanted_ , when he looked at it.” 

Leon snorted, rather unkindly. 

“I was there when he released the thing,” he said, rather tartly. “I was there to deal with how much it did not want him back.” 

“It didn’t want you either,” Oleana retorted, just as tartly. “I heard it chose your successor, but I never knew if it was true.” 

For the first time in… what felt like eons, Leon allowed himself to step back into the memory: Hammerlocke Spire decimated, Eternatus in full, murderous rage at being so gracelessly awoken, his own team scattered and defeated, only charizard left by his side, still standing. It had rejected Rose, before it tore through the ancient castle, from the depths of the powerplant all the way to the top of the spire, where it’d screamed into the skies his rage and how loud that rejection rang. 

It had rejected him too, Leon had realized. 

It had rejected _everything._

But then Hop and Gloria were there, Shield and Sword, and Leon got to watch the battle from the sidelines, crushed ribs making his breath wet and uneven against his lips, as he stared at his brother and wondered if his back had always been so wide. So strong. It wasn’t Hop who subdued the monstrous dragon of poison and hate, as Raihan had so succinctly put it. It wasn’t Hop that took the torch from Leon and completed the job. It was Gloria, who wasn’t chosen, but chose _it_ instead. 

The pokeball had wobbled, trembled and, eventually, stopped. 

“Not the way Rose wanted it to be,” Leon whispered. “Not… dominion and control. They’re… friends. Family, even.” 

“It’s the embodiment of the ancient evil that has blighted our land for millennia,” she said, rather skeptical. 

“It also really likes head scritches,” he replied, shrugging, “and playing tag.” He paused, to let it fully sink in. “I’ve played tag with it, repeatedly. It’s good at it.” He looked at her in the eye, though he needed to twist his head slightly because she was avoiding eye contact. “The living embodiment of the ancient evil that has blighted our land for millennia got to change tracks and retire into a life of luxury and pampering. _I_ get to live with my boyfriend and not suck too bad at my new job.” He swallowed hard. “He’s gone, so we get to choose differently, now. We get to at least try.” 

“We might choose the same things,” Oleana muttered, looking down at her feet. “Out of inertia.” 

“Maybe,” Leon said, pretending the notion didn’t fill him with dread and the urge to second guess every step he took, every waking moment of every single day, “but maybe not. I think it’s worth taking a chance on it.” 

She sighed, slumping forward somewhat. 

“I’ve always loathed you with every fiber of my being,” she said, plaintively, like a truth she didn’t know what to do with, except fling it out into the world. 

Leon burst out laughing so loud it echoed in the emptiness of the caves. 

* * *

It was late afternoon, by the time they made their way out of the mines, deeply engrossed in a bickering match about nothing in particular. 

Jenna was there, along with Cecil, the new CEO of Galar Minerals, waiting for them. Before any of significance could be said, Leon pointed out loudly how hungry he was – Oleana deadpanned something rude under her breath at him for it – and then promptly invited them all for lunch. Very late lunch. 

“What happened to his pokemon?” Oleana asked, sometime around second course. 

She was sitting right of Leon, and she looked more herself, then. 

“Whose pokemon?” Cecil asked, because he was three million steps removed from the actual conversation Jenna and Oleana had been having right above his head the whole time. 

“They’re in confinement,” Jenna replied, voice carefully neutral, “he will not get them back any time soon.” 

“You should give them to Oleana,” Leon said, ignoring the way Oleana choked on her drink. “She caught most of them for him, anyway.” 

“They don’t seem willing to listen to anyone,” Jenna pointed out, dubious. “They need rehabilitation.” 

Oleana kicked Leon under the table, a short, sharp jab with the sole of her foot that he knew would have hurt significantly more if she’d been wearing heels rather than steel-toe boots. 

“Most things that survive him do,” she said, eyes distant. “But yes, I’d like to have them.” She twitched her lips. “Give them a second chance.” 

* * *

Leon got back to the Gym and climbed all the horrid steps up Raihan’s stupid tower of an office. 

It only made him want to die a little, rather than a lot, and he considered that a win. 

The bigger win was finding Raihan behind his desk, hard as work as always, and walking resolutely to him until he was seated in his lap, kissing him like his own life depended on it. Over and over again, until Raihan reached out to close the laptop, threw his phone into a drawer and folded Leon in half against the sturdy wood of his desk. 

“I love you,” Leon said, when they were done, breathing each other’s breath, half slumped against the desk that bore the abuse without a single creak. 

“I love you too,” Raihan purred the words into the hollow of his throat, pleased and slack, “but-“ 

“I _choose_ to be with you,” Leon insisted, sitting up to look at Raihan in the eye. “No one told me to, or made that choice for me. I love you and I choose you, and I’m being a little crazy right now, but I need you to know. _I love you_ , and I made up my mind about it, all on my own.” 

“Baby, you like to free fall with charizard for shits and giggles,” Raihan whispered, reaching a hand to caress Leon’s face, curling it against his cheek when Leon leaned into the touch. “You’re always a little crazy and I love you anyway. It’s fine, you can admit you’ve been eying the desk since day one. I know I have.” 

Leon burst out laughing again. He also burst out crying. It was hard, to do both at once, but he managed somehow. He managed as he clung to Raihan and held on so tightly he almost expected to slide through and into his skin. Raihan shifted only enough to sit back on his chair and drag Leon with him, spilling him into his lap like a boneless mass of writhing sob-cackling. 

“I really do love you,” Leon whispered, curled up in Raihan’s lap. “So much it hurts sometimes.” He swallowed hard. “The good kind of hurt.” 

“I love you too,” Raihan replied, lips brushing against Leon’s forehead. “I’m sorry you had a rough day.” 

Leon sniffled loudly. 

“What are you talking about?” He said, pressing his face against Raihan’s chest and the comforting, soothing echo of his heartbeat, “my boyfriend and I had terribly unprofessional sex atop his desk: it’s been a _wonderful_ day.” 

Raihan laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world, as far as Leon was concerned. 

* * *

“Sonia, am I a selfish asshole?” 

Leon sat on the edge of the pond, legs deep in the water and arms folded on his thighs as he stared at his toes through the distortion of the surface. 

“Well,” she replied, voice coming crisp and clear out of his phone, which was busy floating somewhere left above his head, “that’s a loaded question.” 

Leon swallowed back a very undignified, possibly manic giggle. 

“I’ve been told I only reach out to people when I need something from them,” he explained, given that, a good week later, Mia’s words were still stuck in the back of his head, like a pebble trapped inside a shoe. 

There was a long pause, before Sonia sighed. 

“I need you to think real hard about this, what you’re doing right now,” she said, the same fond-exasperated tone she used whenever he failed to catch her drift on first attempt, “and I need you to remember you’re doing it at…” she paused, seemingly to check on the nearest clock, “three thirty-four in the morning.” 

Leon winced so hard it was almost like they were children again and she’d unceremoniously dropped her tiny, bony fist atop his head. He was taller than her, now, had been for a while, so she couldn’t do it anymore. But he still remembered. 

“Ow.” 

Sonia laughed. It was the quiet, teasing laugh that she’d only grown after Leon become Champion. One summer, when he was fifteen and managed to snatch a whole day back in Postwick, to watch his brother frolic around a herd of wooloo, Sonia had come to sit on the fence with him, and he’d noticed her laugh had changed. She didn’t chortle like she used to, when he offered a really good pun. She giggled, instead. Ladylike and proper. Leon had wondered when the change had happened, and felt a strange, uncomfortable kind of shame, because he didn’t know. It was the same feeling that made him avoid going back home so often, afterwards: the vague resentment that things kept _changing_ and he wasn’t there to see it. So it was better if he wasn’t there to see it at all. 

“Pokemon battles and cooking,” she said, voice light and teasing. “Remember? That’s all you’re good for.” 

She was joking, but not really. And it stung, a little, somewhere under his lungs, the same place that quiet, insidious thought from the mine – we were _ten_ – had sank its teeth and refused to let him go. 

“Maybe,” Leon said, voice light, “I want to add friend to that list.” 

“Then maybe you should let me get a full night sleep,” Sonia retorted without skipping a beat, “and then tomorrow, you can buy me lunch and help me brainstorm the right way to bully your boyfriend into letting me use his library.” 

Leon buried his face in his hands. 

“Good night, Sonia.” 

“Good night, Leon,” she replied, and then, just before he could hang up: “you’re not, by the way.” She laughed again. “A selfish asshole. You wouldn’t care, if you were.” 

Rotom blinked at him, as the line went dead. 

* * *

The next day, Leon took the day off so he could go down to Postwick and buy Sonia lunch. 

Then she invited him back to the Lake House and he cooked dinner for her, her grandmother, and his brother. And then he proceeded to embarrass his brother into fleeing back to their parents’ home by getting drunk with Sonia in the garden bench by the shore of the lake, laughing and trading stories of their childhood. It was fundamentally the same thing they’d done for her birthday, but the tone was completely different. Brighter. They called Raihan around ten, and it turned out all their careful scheming was for naught because all it took for Raihan to agreed to let Sonia into the restricted section of Hammerlocke Library was them asking. 

In the morning, they took a corviknight taxi back to Hammerlocke and Leon spent the day watching them argue about history and conservation thereof. He was going to have to pay Sebastian in metric quantities of bubble tea for the fact he’d talked Aria into taking over Leon’s classes for two days in a row, but it was worth it. 

“Raihan’s really smart, huh,” Hop said, sitting next to Leon on the edge of an ornate table older than the entire population of Postwick put together: it was massive and solid and served as the main research table inside the library. “Not a lot of people keep up with Sonia.” 

“Yep,” Leon agreed, letting his feet swing a little as he gave his brother a rather preening look. “You should hear him talk about battle modeling,” Leon added, a frankly dreamy tone in his voice. “He’s so good at making matchups on the fly.” 

Hop gave him a thoughtful look, considering. 

“Not good enough to beat you yet,” he pointed out, more teasing than anything. 

Leon smiled. 

“No,” he said, watching Raihan hold a book up out of Sonia’s grasp and hiss out very put-upon facts about Hammerlocke Keep at her, “not yet.” 

“You look happier,” Hop added, in a carefully neutral tone, “here, than you did back home.” He gave Leon a soft smile, as if to mitigate the effect of his words. “Mum will be glad to know.” 

Leon did not tell him he called home every other day, and that he and their mum chatted with each other and shared their morning tea while they did. Only rotom knew that. Leon smiled at him, eyes closed. 

“I am,” he said, “happier, I mean.” He smiled wider and ignored the high-pitched noise of annoyance Sonia made, the one that was seared into his subconscious as disaster about to begin. “Would you like to meet dracovish?” 

Hop blinked at him. 

“What’s a dracovish?” 

Leon almost didn’t feel bad, taking his brother’s hand and fleeing the library when he did, leaving Raihan at the mercy of Sonia’s impending tirade. 

Almost. 

* * *

Leon could always tell the precise moment Raihan woke up, because he had a tendency to tighten his hold on him, arms and legs pulling him just the tiniest bit closer, like they hadn’t spent all night plastered against each other, lowkey baking in bed as they endured the last remnants hot summer heat. On weekdays he was up long before Raihan woke up, but on weekends he really got to bask in the feeling. It still felt weird, to stay in bed even though he was awake, but there were bright sides to it, too. 

Like, say, the hand slowly inching its way down his belly until fingers were sneaking under the waistband of his underwear. 

“Really?” Leon said, tilting his head back enough to look at Raihan over the corner of his eye. “Not even good morning first?” 

“Good morning, baby,” Raihan growled low into his ear, voice thick with sleep still. “I dreamt about you, wanna see?” 

Leon laughed, which of course Raihan took to mean yes – because it did – and it was a good hour and a half before either of them even thought about getting out of bed at all. 

“Your birthday’s next week,” Leon said, fingering along the curve of Raihan’s spine as they basked in a well-earned afterglow, and slowly tried to gather enough will to get out of bed, clean up and start sorting out what to do with the remnants of the day sometime before noon. “Do you have any plans?” 

“Aaaah, sort of,” Raihan said, oddly sheepish as he looked up at Leon cautiously. “I usually spend the day back home,” he explained, frowning slightly. “You’re welcome to come along, but… it’s okay if you want to sit that one out on account of. Y’know. Family.” He looked nervous. “You don’t… it’s _okay_ if it’s too soon to do the whole meet the extended family thing. Mine is extra extended, after all.” He offered a soft smile. “We can spend time together on the weekend after. Or before! Really, I’m okay with celebrating the whole month, even.” 

It occurred to Leon, as he watched the way Raihan braced for his answer, that he didn’t really _know_ a lot about Raihan’s family. He knew he was an orphan – all of Galar had known, of course, it had been the one thing no one had let Raihan forget, the year he’d become Gym Leader of Hammerlocke and broke a bloodline inheritance tradition that stretched so far back in history it went straight into myth about the foundation of Galar itself. But he was always scrupulously private about his personal life, beyond himself. For all he posted endless selfies about whatever he happened to be doing at the time, every day, almost every hour, Raihan never posted about friends – Leon looked back and did not feel that bad, that he had never known Raihan and Piers were so close as to live together on occasion – much less family. If he had family… which he did, because he’d just told Leon about it, he’d made a concentrated effort to keep it off the limelight. 

Hell, Raihan had posted exactly nineteen selfies with Leon since they’d started dating, and he’d cautiously asked Leon if he should, every single time. 

It was a strange paradox that Leon had never really stumbled upon before: the way Raihan was so conspicuously open about certain parts of his life made it easy to feel like one knew him already, but really, looking back, he hadn’t really _known_ him before he’d become Chairman and took control of his own schedule, allowing himself the time to really chat with him and listen to all he had to say. All the bits and pieces that Leon treasured about Raihan, that knowledge he reached for when he wanted to show he cared, that didn’t really come from his social media – though Leon still followed him and his updates diligently, because eye-candy was eye-candy and he was only human. 

Raihan didn’t talk about his family, and Leon had never asked because all he knew was that Raihan didn’t _have_ one. But now that he’d mentioned it, now that it was right there in front of him, Leon felt the questions bubble in the back of his throat, curious and desperate like he always felt because he wanted to know _everything_ about Raihan, basically always. 

“I’d love to meet your family,” Leon said, reaching a hand to tilt Raihan’s face up just enough he could kiss him. “If you’re okay with that.” 

“I am,” Raihan replied, with a little shrug and a follow up kiss that landed somewhere in the corner of Leon’s jaw. “It’s just. It’s not like yours. Blood-tied, I mean. But-“ 

“They’re your family, and they’re important to you,” Leon capitulated, eyes bright, “that means they’re important to me.” 

He yelped a laugh when Raihan rolled them around until he was sitting with his back against the headboard and Leon was sprawled in his lap. 

“It’s really terrible,” Raihan said, burying his face into the crook of Leon’s neck, “that habit of yours to take in stride anything I’m freaking out about.” 

“I love you,” Leon said, chin resting on Raihan’s shoulder, and moaned as he felt sharp teeth dig into the precise dip where his neck melted into his shoulder, just skirting the edge where his uniform shirt would be able to cover it. “I want us to work out, Rai. I want to meet your family and I want you to meet mine, and I want them to… approve of us, ideally. And if they don’t…” Leon swallowed hard. “I’d still like to keep trying. _I want us to work out_.” 

“We’re already working out,” Raihan chided him, but it was soft and teasing, even as he pulled Leon closer, mouth trailing up along his throat towards his mouth. “You have a really short attention span, Lee, let me remind you.” 

Leon opened his mouth to protest the fact it was nearly noon and they still had errands to run before the day was out, but somehow he never got to it. 

* * *

Raihan made Leon two requests for his birthday: that he didn’t buy him anything, and that they had pie, rather than cake, to celebrate it. 

“My mom hated cake,” Raihan explained, the night before his birthday, sitting in the living room and meticulously gift-wrapping a veritable mountain of toys. “I don’t… I don’t remember a lot, but I remember that.” 

Leon sat next to him, watching him work but unable to help due to the fact he was covered in sleepy, cranky dragon babies and he’d already gotten bitten for daring to move them from their chosen perches. They were getting big, but they wouldn’t be ready to get matched to people in the waiting list until spring at the earliest. 

“I’ve never made pie,” Leon confessed, “but the internet has a recipe for everything and if all else fails, I know for a fact Gloria’s mum likes to bake.” He grinned in the face of the look Raihan gave him. “What’s your favorite kind of pie?” 

“Cherry,” Raihan replied, with certainty. “Best flavor for everything except soda, really.” 

“I love you enough not to argue that,” Leon said, and nudged him with a foot, which was the only thing he could move without dislodging a dragon off his person. “I thought you were supposed to _get_ gifts on your birthday, not give them.” 

Raihan shrugged. 

“It’s… it was a dumb joke,” he explained, carefully wrapping a box boasting a jigsaw puzzle with wrapping paper in Hammerlocke colors. “Mrs. Fairweather… my… the woman who raised me,” Raihan said, stumbling on the words a little, “she made a joke, about me coming home with a bounty like a delibird, after I moved out.” Raihan paused, frowning. “I moved out when I became Gym Leader,” he added, shrugging. “People were real mad about it and I didn’t want to drag that shit back home. So I moved out. But there were… other kids, there.” Raihan paused again. “Mrs. Fairweather ran a foster home, I had a lot of foster siblings. Have. The foster house’s still there, too.” Despite the fumbling of his words, awkward and all over the place, the gift was impeccably wrapped. Raihan moved it to the steadily growing pile and picked up the next. “We have a group chat, and I drop by every few months, and always for my birthday.” He smiled, wry and endearing and kind, and Leon felt himself fall in love with him all over again. “So I bring gifts, ‘cause I’m the local delibird.” 

“It sounds fun,” Leon said, still somewhat fascinated by the graceful shift of Raihan’s hands as he went about gift-wrapping. He took a moment to remember Raihan was graceful about everything, heaving nearly seven feet of him around and moving just _so_ , that people kept forgetting he was that tall right until they were next to him. Leon leaned in, voice hushed like he was sharing a secret… which he supposed he was. “I still send Hop trinkets, sometimes. Things I see and I think he’ll like.” 

Raihan smiled at him, pausing a moment, before he went back to his pile of presents. Leon watched him, basking in the comfortable silence while he scratched delicately between one of the jangmo-o’s scales. Raihan got through several other gifts – dolls and stuffed pokemon and Leon realized no two gifts were the same, because this was not like the mass charity donations Rose used to make, that he himself had done, when he’d been Chairman: this was not charity. This was not Hammerlocke’s Gym Leader making a toy donation to a foster home, looking to take a few good PR pictures with cute orphans. 

This was an older brother carefully and painstaking gift-wrapping every hand-picked present for his siblings. 

And Leon knew Raihan, how fastidious and thoughtful he was, he must have spent _hours_ hunting down the right thing for each and every single one of them. Leon felt vaguely exhausted, thinking about how many children were represented in the pile that Raihan was calmly and lovingly working through. He knew it wasn’t, rationally, a countable, finite resource, but he still wondered if Raihan would ever run out of love, anyway. Because Raihan loved him – he did, he really did, he said the words and held him and smiled at him even when he was being deranged – and he loved his pokemon, but he also… he loved Hammerlocke, Leon concluded. All of it. The old fortifications and the ancient walls, the neat little stones in the pavement and the towering spires around the old Keep. And even more, he loved the _people_ in it. He loved the people who worked in the Gym, Trainers and Staffers and _everyone_. He loved the people in the streets, shopkeepers and tourists and trainers and more. 

He looked at it and them all with the same kind, indulgent smile, and it reminded Leon of his father watching him try to wrestle his Nan’s small army of goletts: amused and delighted and deep down, viciously proud. 

Leon wondered if any in Hammerlocke truly knew what it meant, that they lived in the shadow of Raihan’s love, if any of them basked in that knowledge and wrapped it close around themselves, like a cloak. 

“Do you think…” Leon began, shifting in place to accommodate mimikyu curling up against his neck, half hidden beneath his hair. “Do you think she’ll like me? Mrs. Fairweather, I mean.” 

Leon regretted the words for the way Raihan’s mouth twitched vaguely down into an unhappy line. Then the moment passed and he shrugged. 

“I’m afraid you… missed her,” Raihan explained, staring out the glass doors into their yard with a vague, resigned look on his face. “Mrs. Fairweather… _my_ Mrs. Fairweather…” He sighed. “Evelyn died four years ago. Her daughter, Rhys, she and her wife run the place now.” Raihan offered a small smile. “So she’s the new Mrs. Fairweather.” 

Leon smiled back, trying for gentle, for soothing, but he wasn’t his Nan. He knew he wasn’t good at this, might never be good at it, even, but for Raihan, he wanted to try. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Leon said, licking his lips, “but I hope her passing was kind. I hope she knew she was loved.” 

Raihan chuckled, just a little bit wetly, and rubbed his nose, before he leaned down and went back to gifts. 

“She knew,” he said, carefully not looking at anything other but the book he was wrapping up now. “I promise you, she knew.” 

* * *

Raihan looked a little ridiculous, walking down the street the next day. He held Leon’s hand in one of his own, and used the other to haul a stupidly large sack over his shoulder. They were very much not wearing uniforms, either, walking down the sidewalk down a residential side of Hammerlocke Leon had not gotten to explore yet. The houses were laid out in neat lines, forming slightly curved streets, and it reminded Leon of the neighborhood right by the river, in Wyndon. The houses there had been certainly inspired by the ones in Hammerlocke: old townhouses pressed tight against each other, several floors high and each built with bricks in just barely different shades of Hammerlocke purplish blue. But unlike the mass-produced buildings in Wyndon, the streets of Hammerlocke had history, whispers. Leon basked in the by now familiar hum of what he’d only been able to term _Hammerlocke_ echoing in the edges of his awareness, vivid and insistent, refusing to fade. 

Raihan led the way, steps confident and sure, and then turned down a smaller street. Leon stopped in his tracks, so abruptly he almost made Raihan lose his step, and looked down the street with the sudden, very clear certainty of which one was Raihan’s childhood home. 

“Rai?” Leon asked, not looking at him, eyes bright and golden, “was milotic Mrs. Fairweather’s favorite pokemon?” 

Raihan, to his credit, frowned a little but shrugged, patiently waiting for Leon to be done with… whatever it was he was doing. 

“Yes,” he answered, without skipping a beat. “All the trainers… we offered to get her one, but she insisted she didn’t have the time or the space for one. But she always said she liked how elegant they look.” He hesitated a moment, and then asked, voice soft and cautious, “how did you know?” 

Leon watched the massive shape nestled comfortably atop the house at the end of the street, coiled around the building like it was its nest, and nodded to himself, since it did look rather milotic-like. 

“Just a hunch,” Leon said, and smiled up at the thing when he felt it _staring_ down at him. “She really did love this house, and everyone who lived in it a whole lot.” 

Raihan’s expression melted into sated grief, the kind of sorrow that had been watered down with enough love to not really hurt anymore. 

“Yep,” he said, “she really did.” 

Leon tightened his grip on Raihan’s hand, well aware of the eyes scrutinizing him as he did, and beamed at him. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, “lead the way!” 

Raihan tugged at his hand playfully, and together they went. 

When he passed under the threshold of the front gate, Leon felt something rake through him, judging, and knew without having to look, that the giant, spectral milotic wrapped around the house was looking down at him as it happened. There were a lot of stories, in the house, and he needed a moment, as he let go of Raihan’s hand, to center himself and not drown in it. They weren’t all happy stories, but they weren’t all sad, either. They were almost mundane, really except for the fact there were just… _a lot_ of them. Echoes of little every day things, carved deep into space by the sheer amount of love that guided them. 

It was the strangest haunting Leon had ever seen, really: the entire place was deeply, profoundly soaked in the feral kind of love that _lingered_. 

“Han is here!” Someone screamed, laughter wrapped into that shriek, and it took Leon a moment to realize that Han meant _Raihan_. “Han is here!” 

Leon watched from the sidelines as a veritable stampede of children ran over his boyfriend and he didn’t step in to try and help because Raihan was laughing in delight the whole time. He watched little hands cling to his belt, dozens of voices talking all at once, and Raihan picking up a small child in each arm and set their weight against his hip the way Leon’s mum used to do with Hop, and possibly Leon himself, when they’d been that small. 

Inside his heart, Leon felt the circle around Raihan grow just enough to include them all: they mattered to Raihan, and that meant they mattered to him. 

Simple. 

The milotic lowered its head, to rest it atop its own coils after that, seemingly content now that Leon’s indifference had faded. 

“You’re staring,” Aria said, giving him an openly dirty look. 

“Staring’s rude,” Camilla added, hands on her hips. 

“Hello,” Sebastian snorted, ignoring the betrayed look his sisters gave him. “Han _brought_ him here,” he added, giving them a disapproving look, “I’m pretty sure that means he’s family now.” 

Leon didn’t think he’d ever seen them not wearing their uniforms before: the triplet aesthetic certainly didn’t extend outside the Gym, apparently. He stared and stared and felt it click in place inside his head, after a moment. 

“Oooh,” he said, slapping his forehead with a hand, “ _orphans_. Right.” 

Aria burst out laughing, almost against her will. 

“Did you seriously just figure it out?” Camilla demanded, in the same tone she’d demanded to know why the hell Leon kept getting lost all the time. “Really?” 

“Family,” Sebastian snorted, almost as if reminding himself. “Remember?” 

“Lee!” Raihan called, slowly herding his mass of siblings vaguely towards the house, waving at him. “We’re going inside for the gifts.” 

“Coming!” Leon called back, and then gave the triplets a small wink when they stared at him. “I’m good, with family.” 

“Tch,” Camilla snorted, in time with her siblings. 

But no one actually fought him, as they all walked towards the house. 

Leon took that as a victory, all things considered. 

* * *

Oleana sent him a postcard from Turffield. 

It included a little photograph of her and her pokemon – Rose’s and her own, which were all hers, by then – standing in front of a lovely cottage house in the outskirts of town. It looked lovely and peaceful and she wasn’t _smiling_ , because Oleana did not smile, ever, but she looked. Well. 

Better. 

It also had a single sentence written in marker, each stroke firm and clear: 

_Never Contact Me Again, Thank You._

Leon slipped the postcard and the photograph under the glass of the bedside table on his side of the bed. Oleana would be mad at him, if he put her picture in a frame, but he wanted… he wanted to keep it close, regardless. 

_We were ten_ , he thought again, insistent, but not loud. It was the crumbly kind of thought that sneaked through his awareness, but he didn’t know what to do with it. Leon made sure the glass atop the nightstand was perfectly aligned with the edges of the wood and then walked around the bed and towards the window, to look down at the yard. Raihan was watering the grass and the handful of potted plants he kept in the yard, but mostly he was playing with their pokemon, waving the hose around. He was very careful with duralodon and charizard, who liked to play, definitely, but had to be careful not to overdo it with the water. 

He wondered what Raihan had been like, at ten. 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“Hey, rotom?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at where his phone was taking a nap on the charger pad on the nightstand. “Can you call Mia for me?” 

“Bzzt,” it chirped happily, and floated up to him at once, “sure!” 

Leon watched Raihan laughing down in the yard, getting toppled over by mimikyu and goodra working together, and then having all their pokemon smother him into the ground. 

“What did you do?” Mia asked, in lieu of hello, sounding wary. 

Leon burst out laughing at once. 

“Nothing,” he said, grinning wryly at his faint reflection in the glass of the window. “I was going to email you a question, but then I reckoned I should call instead, and ask how you’re doing. I don’t think I’ve ever called you to just to ask how you’re doing, before.” 

“I’m doing alright,” Mia replied, slowly, like she wasn’t sure what to make of the question. “Spending time with the family and… you know. Enjoying the weekend.” She paused. “What did you want to ask me?” 

Leon shrugged. 

“That first month as Chairman, you gave me a card for a therapist you thought I should see,” he said, keeping the words even. “I think… I think I lost it, somewhere along the line. I was wondering if you could send me their contact information again.” 

Mia didn’t let the pause linger too long, or become awkward. 

“Sure,” she said, like it was the most normal thing in the world, “though his office is in Wyndon.” 

“That’s alright,” Leon replied, “I can fly up any time, no problem.” He paused. “Unless… unless you think I should look for someone else, now.” 

“Oh no, Felix… Dr. Vale, he’ll be happy to chat with you, I’m sure,” Mia insisted, voice kind. “He specializes in helping people with… complicated childhoods. I’ll email you his contact information first thing Monday morning.” 

_We were ten_ . 

“Thank you, Mia,” Leon sighed, smile faint at the corner of his lips. “That’d be lovely.” 

“So how are _you_ doing?” She asked, rather than hang up. “Hammerlocke treating you alright?” 

Leon watched Raihan wrestle his sandaconda to the ground, relentlessly tickling the thing as it wiggled beneath him, clearly having the time of their lives. 

“I’m good,” he said, sighing in content. He wondered what kind of thing would wrap around _their_ house, when they were both gone. And then, more firmly, less morbidly, he said: “Better.” 

He reckoned in that tone, even Mia would believe him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about Raihan's family and his childhood, checkout the side story about it: [_(i know) you're out there somewhere waiting_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146827/chapters/58142932).


	7. bonds and boundaries

“Are you excited?” His mum asked, teasing. 

Leon grinned at the camera, and hoped she could see exactly how excited he felt. They didn’t use video very often, for their calls, primarily because they usually talked early in the morning and there was an unspoken rule of sorts that they didn’t have to get dressed and look presentable, if no one was looking. But today was special, after all. 

“I am!” Leon replied, reaching for the glass of iced tea in the night table. “I’ve always wanted to travel out beyond Galar, but it… never seemed to be a good time for it.” 

It was a not quite truth very delicately put to outright avoid lying. He’d always wanted to visit other regions and just… see what the world was like, beyond Galar’s borders. But it hadn’t been a matter of timing, why he’d never done it. It was a matter of Rose. Rose kept convincing him he didn’t have time or that it wasn’t important or that he was needed or any other thing he could use, to make sure Leon stayed put, right where Rose wanted him. 

Mostly, Leon reckoned, he wanted to make sure Leon never ever had any reason to question the way things were run in Galar, much less compare it to how the rest of the world dealt with anything, or, worst of all, questioned anything. 

Of course, that wasn’t his mum’s fault, and she didn’t really need to know that. It wasn’t his fault, either. None of that was anyone’s fault but Rose’s. Leon was still having trouble parsing that last bit, but he absolutely didn’t want his parents to shoulder any undue guilt about anything. So delicate word choice became a skill he was keenly interested in sharpening, particularly since he started his weekly sessions with Dr. Vale. He’d always known, on some level, that he had to be careful with his words, that words had _meaning_ , but he’d always seen it from the perspective of PR and the long lectures he endured whenever he broke off script. It turned out just because he didn’t _have_ scripts anymore, it didn’t mean he could just run his mouth without thinking. Which he was definitely guilty of doing, here and there. 

It was hard, but Leon supposed all things worth doing were. 

“And how’s Raihan doing?” His mum asked, expression sly in a way that made Leon flush almost on reflex. 

His mum laughed as he ducked his head in embarrassment. 

“He’s fine,” Leon muttered into his drink, looking away. “Busy. There’s a lot of work to do in the Gym, prepping for the trip, but. He’s doing alright.” He paused and gave her a small smile. “We’re both doing alright, really.” 

“That’s good,” she replied, expression soft. “Tell him I look forward to having him over for the holidays.” 

Leon laughed. 

“I literally tell him that every morning,” he said, one eyebrow arched. “He knows, mum.” 

“You never know, he might forget!” She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got to make sure he doesn’t get cold feet.” 

Leon thought back to the look on Raihan’s face when he pointed out his mum was expecting them both to go down to Postwick to celebrate winter holidays and new year’s. He’d never seen Raihan flustered like that, except when Leon offered to spend his birthday with him and meet his extended family, maybe. Leon scratched the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh,” he snorted, “I’m pretty sure that’s not really a risk, here.” 

“ _You never know_ ,” his mum admonished gently, “you should never take someone’s feelings for granted.” She paused. “Besides, I’m hoping my enthusiasm to have him here will help him get through… you know, your dad.” 

Leon groaned. 

“Is he _still_ -?” 

His mum clicked her tongue. 

“Don’t think badly of him,” she said placatingly. “You’re his firstborn pride, no one’s ever going to be good enough.” She shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll come around once he actually meets Raihan in person, though.” 

“Did you tell him to stop stalking my boyfriend online?” Leon muttered a little testily, rubbing a hand on his face. 

She laughed. 

“Nope, didn’t have to,” she explained, eyes bright. “Your Nan did. Which reminds me, she wants-“ 

“I know,” Leon interrupted. “I know, I _know_ , please don’t say it out loud, I’m obligated to point out that’s breaking the law, and that breaking the law is bad and shouldn’t be done at all.” 

“I love you,” his mum said, rather than acknowledge the small tirade with anything but a small grin. “So does your Nan.” 

“I love you too, mum,” Leon replied, letting his head hang a little. “Please tell dad I love him, and tell Nan I love her _and_ I’ll do my best.” He paused significantly. “Within the best constraints of the law as I am a law-abiding citizen who does not conspire to break the law at all.” He paused for effect. “Ever.” 

“Eminently convincing,” his mum snorted. “Call me when you land, will you?” 

“It’s going to be three in the morning here,” Leon pointed out, squinting. “Are you-“ 

“Yes,” she insisted. “Call me when you land, both ways. Otherwise, have fun, take lots of pictures, and absolutely do not break international law just because your Nan asked you to.” 

Leon laughed, waved, and hung up. Rotom lowered itself to his hands, as Leon had a habit to pet him for a good job after any call that lasted longer than five minutes. Then he floated away and went to nap on the charger pad on the nightstand. Leon gathered his empty glass and shuffled his way downstairs, to check on Raihan. 

He found him in the yard, sitting on the grass with charizard’s head on his lap and her whole body spread out on the grass, wings opened fully, flopped on her belly like a lazy purloin demanding scritches. Raihan was carefully and meticulously rubbing oil into her scales with a soft toothbrush, since she’d just finished shedding the week prior. Leon marveled at both, her willingness to let Raihan do this, considering how cranky and generally annoyed at everything she was right after her yearly shed was over, and the fact Raihan was talking softly at her, words too faint for Leon to make out. Raihan did that a lot, when it came to taking care of his pokemon… and recently, Leon’s, as well. He liked talking to them and explain what he was doing, and he didn’t really make a fuss about including Leon’s pokemon in his routines. Leon realized he sort of did the same, in his own way: he’d taken to polish duralodon, whenever he polished aegislash and dhelmise, and goodra definitely enjoyed getting washed along with seismitoad and rillaboom. It wasn’t something he set out to do, consciously, but it had certainly become a habit over the weeks and months he’d spent living in Raihan’s house. 

He’d been here almost six months, now, Leon realized: he’d moved in at the beginning of summer, and they were now more than halfway done with fall. By the time they returned from the Annual Dragon Conference in Kalos, it’d be winter, which meant his birthday and then end of year, and before he knew it, it’d be spring again and a new season of the Gym Challenge, as well as a full year since he resigned. 

“Mum says hi,” Leon said, coming to sit behind Raihan, legs at each side of his and not even really bothering to try and stretch enough to hook his chin on his shoulder, because Leon had long made peace with the fact his boyfriend had almost a full foot of height on him. “She also needs you to know she’s very excited to have you over for winter hols.” 

Raihan chuckled, tilting his head back to look at Leon over his shoulder. 

“Did you tell her I’m looking forward to it too?” 

Leon nodded. 

“Yep.” 

Raihan nodded back. 

“Good,” he said, and chuckled when charizard huffed against his thigh, wingtips twitching. “Yes, yes, your majesty, no need to get pushy with me.” 

“I’m pretty sure that means she likes you,” Leon said, words half muffled against Raihan’s back, which was nice and wide and solid and definitely excellent to lean against. “She straight up bites anyone she doesn’t like.” 

“Oh that’s bullshit, slander and libel,” Raihan laughed, carefully brushing oil along the scales down charizard’s horns. “I’ve seen her do PR shots with children since _I_ was a child. She’s the sweetest thing.” 

“She likes kids,” Leon explained, closing his eyes and contemplating taking a nap right where he was. “Tolerates teenagers pretty okay unless they’re touching for too long. Adults she has preferences on. Preferences she’ll make very, very clear.” 

Leon heard charizard grunt and knew without having to see it that she was flaring her nostrils at Raihan, as if to agree with that description. It made Raihan laugh, which was still the best sound in the world, as far as Leon was concerned, and he basked in hearing it echoing through his back. 

“Boundaries are important,” Raihan said, over the sound of charizard’s sudden, pleased purr as he reached the tougher scales at the base of her wings. “For people _and_ pokemon.” 

“I have boundaries,” Leon protested the gentle ribbing – it was gentle, but it was still ribbing, the soft kind that didn’t let him fall back into bad habits. “I’m _very good_ at boundaries. I know when they’re needed and I know how to outline them.” Raihan was looking at him over his shoulder again. Leon pressed his face into his back. “Enforcing is a work in progress, granted, but two out of three is not bad.” 

Raihan chuckled. 

“We’ll get you to excellent yet, baby,” he said, clearly amused, “don’t worry about it.” 

Honestly? Leon didn’t. And he needed to chat with Dr. Vale about it, if the growing sense of complacency was a good thing or not, but… if the past five months and change became a template for the rest of their lives, he would not complain. 

Not one bit. 

* * *

Galar’s International Airport was not, strictly speaking, _in Galar_ . 

Leon had been in it only once before, some ten years prior, when it’d finally been inaugurated and he’d participated in the ceremony and even had a dynamax battle with then Stow-on-Side Gym Leader Kyle out there in the actual runways. In retrospect, it was a convenient coincidence for Rose, that the island had its own power spot to power the airport complex despite it not being directly connected to the mainland power grid. It helped to further isolate Galar, as well, considering the Wyndon airport closed soon after. 

Dressed in comfortable clothing to brave a fourteen-hour flight, Leon found himself casually sitting on one of Raihan’s knees, watching planes maneuver around through the wide windows while they waited for their turn to board. Raihan had a hand on Leon’s thigh, keeping him balanced in place, but was otherwise engrossed in both his feed and a revised manuscript for Sonia’s second book that he’d apparently asked her to let him proofread in exchange for unrestricted access to Hammerlocke’s libraries. Leon felt mildly bad for not really understanding what Raihan and Sonia were arguing about – the specific age of part of Hammerlocke, which had something to do with proving or disproving something or other about… something. He couldn’t keep up, honestly. They had both tried to explain and he’d ended up with his eyes glazed both times. They cared about it and it was apparently important, but it wasn’t like they needed him for anything in that regard. It was okay if they didn’t need him for stuff, Leon reminded himself, whenever he stumbled on a meanspirited thought. It was okay if he wasn’t at the absolute center of everything, so long as he was respectful and supportive, it was okay. 

It was okay. 

“You’re not going to be even a little bit subtle about it, are you?” Camilla asked, startling Leon out of his thoughts just as she shoved a cup of bubble tea into his hands. 

“Subtle about what?” He asked, even as he shifted enough to hold the drink in both hands. 

“Sugar, cinnamon and caramel,” Sebastian was saying, giving Raihan his drink with significantly less forcefulness. “They were out of muffins, but we got donuts instead.” 

“This!” Camilla said, waving a hand in their general direction, looking put out. 

“This?” Leon asked, and took a sip of his. 

“She’s being a brat,” Raihan explained teasingly, tugging Leon a bit closer until his back was leaning against his side, and Leon blinked as Camilla’s face went red almost violently. 

“I’m not a _brat_ ,” Camilla spluttered, even as Sebastian snickered into his own drink. “You’re just _indecent_.” 

“You’re a prude,” Aria snorted, rolling her eyes as she pulled her sister close, wrapping an arm around her waist. “And they’re as good as married anyway, we might as well live with it.” 

“Aria!” Raihan chided, face warm. “Stop bullying my boyfriend, you three.” 

Sebastian choked on his drink. 

“I didn’t even _say_ -“ 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Leon interceded, nudging Raihan’s shoulder. “I mean, no, we’re not very subtle, granted, but I wouldn’t say we’re _indecent_.” 

Camilla opened her mouth, probably to add a bit more fuel to the fire, but Aria beat her to it, in her usual ruthless deadpan. 

“She’s just jealous she’s not Han’s favorite anymore.” 

“Alright,” Raihan said, rolling his eyes as he stood up, pulling Leon up with him by virtue of the arm wrapped around his waist, which made Leon yelp when his feet were definitely no longer touching the ground for a second there, before he found his footing. “Group hug.” 

“I don’t-“ Camilla started and then spluttered in surprise when both Sebastian and Aria shoved her right into Raihan and followed suit. 

“You can’t fix everything with group hugs, Han,” Sebastian said a little dryly, but did not squirm out of the hug, which was possible only because Raihan’s arms were proportional to the rest of his nearly seven feet of _person_. 

“Watch me,” Raihan snorted, and then sighed. “You’re all my favorite and I reserve the right to fix all fights with group hugs. Don’t make me get the get-along shirt out again.” 

“The _what_ now?” Leon wondered, not at all distracted by the casual manhandling, not in the slightest. 

“Nothing!” The siblings squeaked in unison, which meant it was something terrible and embarrassing and that Leon was now definitely dying to know. 

“Rotom has pictures,” Raihan said deviously as the triplets began to squirm and try to escape the hold, so he gently let them go. “But it’s the kind of thing you have to see in person to really get the full effect.” 

Leon grinned, watching the subsequent bickering fit while slowly slurping his drink. They never acted that way, in the Gym or while they were still in uniform, and he honestly found it a bit fascinating how good they were at segmenting their relationship. He tried his best to keep himself professional while at work, of course, but he wasn’t about to forget he did have sex with his boyfriend in his office that one time, and that had sort of… made it into neutral territory. It wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in on them there, after all. But still. It worked out and he didn’t get to stick his nose in it. 

Boundaries and all. 

“E-excuse me!” 

Leon looked down to find a small boy, maybe ten or twelve, wearing a replica of the black hat he’d worn on his last match as Champion, and looking up at him with very big, very hopeful eyes as he offered a league card. 

“Hello!” Leon said, smiling brightly. “And who might you be?” 

“Calvin,” the boy said, fidgeting. “You’re Leon!” 

“I am!” Leon agreed, eyes soft. “What can I do for you today, Calvin?” 

“Can I have an autograph?” He offered Leon the card, a copy of his last run as Champion. 

“Sure thing,” Leon replied, and reached out for the marker he kept in one of his pockets, just for situations like these. “Do you want a copy of the new one, too?” 

Calvin nodded slowly, so Leon pulled another one from the depths of his pockets and signed it too. Calvin’s parents approached, at that point, and Leon found himself sliding into chipper PR mode, answering questions, and offering encouragement for the slowly amassing crowd that seemed to get just the slightest bit bigger whenever he looked up from what he was signing. 

“Are you _really_ dating Raihan?” A girl asked, with a very suspicious squint and a zigzagoon perched right atop her head. 

“Yes,” Leon replied, because it was true, and looked over his shoulder to find Raihan and the triplets sprawled on the bench, working their way through a box of donuts and their drinks, and… spectating the whole thing. 

Raihan had that look on his face, that meant he was amused by Leon’s current struggle and it made Leon narrow his eyes at him, as if to say _behave yourself_. Raihan grinned shamelessly and bit onto a brightly blue donut, the very picture of taunting innocence. 

“But you’re _rivals_ ,” she said, in the kind of wounded tone that spoke of deep betrayal. 

Leon blinked. 

“I mean, obviously,” he said, on reflex, very much not part of the PR script. He realized it the moment he felt eyes on him on all corners. He cleared his throat. “Being rivals doesn’t mean we hate each other. We’ve been friends for as long as we’ve been rivals, and since a few months now, we’ve been more than friends. But we’re still rivals!” Leon paused for a moment, and then shrugged. “We’re probably going to be rivals forever, honestly.” 

“So I can _like_ my rival?” 

Leon did not laugh at the dubious look on her face, only because he knew better than belittle his youngest fans like that. 

“Definitely,” he said instead. “I mean, it’s okay if you _don’t_ , too. It’s just… being rivals is all about wanting to be better. It doesn’t matter who wins, all that matters is that you’re both getting stronger.” 

“But Raihan never wins,” she insisted, frowning. 

“In singles, yeah,” Leon admitted, laughing. “But in doubles? Pft, he kicks my… he wins every time.” 

“Huh.” 

“Can _I_ have an autograph?” Another boy asked, before she could say something else. 

Leon grinned and went back to signing and taking pictures. It didn’t happen _as_ often as it used to, and he wondered if it would ever stop. What he’d do, if it ever stopped. Finally, the crowd eventually thinned out, and Leon made his way back where Raihan and the triplets were still watching him like one would a TV show. 

“What?” Leon asked, resisting the urge to squirm. 

Aria rolled her eyes, Sebastian snickered and Camilla buried her face into her hands. 

“Nothing at all,” Raihan laughed, reaching a hand to tug Leon so he’d sit next to him again. 

Leon reckoned it was okay, all things considered: they even saved him a donut and all. 

* * *

It turned out fourteen hours felt a lot more like a small eternity when you couldn’t really _do_ much of anything. 

Leon had a couple books he’d always meant to read but never got around to – they had been made into movies now, apparently, which he’d also never gotten around to watch – and a notebook to write down thoughts and doodle in the corners, to keep himself entertained. Raihan popped a pair of sleeping pills, put on noise cancelling headphones, a blindfold, and then politely asked Leon to wake him up when they landed. The triplets were seated across the aisle and seemed keen on playing a card game that involved pokemon trading cards, several league cards and a whole deck of traditional playing cards. Leon decided, wisely, not to ask. 

Still. 

Fourteen hours. 

He was more than happy to take their pokemon to the refreshment area, as soon as they landed, and let them all stretch out, have some fresh water, and try not to trip over the fact the sun was just starting to rise in the horizon. Leon looked over the small army of dragons under his care and found himself smiling. It was nice. 

Raihan found him feeding Sebastian’s sliggoo some berries and trying to distract it away from the main bowl so the rest could eat without risking getting splashed by his enthusiasm. He was accompanied by Drasna, the host of the conference this year, and Leon found himself surprised by how tall she was. The pictures and video he’d seen of her, in preparation for the trip, made her seem a lot… smaller. Maybe it was the heels, but she was a few inches shorter than Raihan. 

“Hello! You must be Leon,” she said as he approached them, while the triplets went in to check after their own pokemon. 

“Hi,” he replied, taking the offered hand, and shaking it politely. “Yes! I’m Raihan’s boyfriend and a Gym Trainer in Hammerlocke.” 

“ _And_ former Champion of Galar, fifteen years in a row,” Raihan added, rolling his eyes as he stepped in to drop an arm around Leon’s shoulders. “ _And_ former Chairman of Galar’s Pokemon League.” 

“Yeah, yeah, but those aren’t the important or current ones,” Leon retorted and then grinned when Raihan blushed. 

“Insufferable!” Camilla yelled at them from somewhere in the background and it made Raihan choke on a laugh. 

Leon turned to Drasna, who was looking at them both with an amused smile. 

“Besides nobody really cares about those, outside Galar.” 

“Delilah might,” Drasna replied, eyebrows arched. “That wound has not healed, I should warn you. As it is, my name is Drasna! And I’m very pleased to meet you, Leon. I hope Kalos treats you kindly.” 

Leon found himself grinning cheerfully. 

“I’m sure it will!” 

Because honestly, what could possibly go wrong? 

* * *

Leon was lost. 

This wasn’t a surprise, per se, but rather an eventuality both he and Raihan had talked about beforehand and agreed upon how to deal with, but still. It was a bit embarrassing how quickly it happened. 

The day before, Drasna had showed them the way into the Conference’s venue, a very big, fancy hotel that could very comfortably keep up with the highest standards of the Rose back home. And Leon knew about hotels, so he felt equipped to judge their accommodations as ridiculously posh, which had made Raihan laugh when he’d pointed it out. They had landed early in the day, so of course after checking in and breakfast, they’d gone meet the others who had arrived yet. Leon repeated his introduction to each and every single one of them, and as expected, no one really challenged it but Raihan’s predecessor, Delilah, who’d taken a look at him, snorted loudly, and told him he was full of shit. It wasn’t until after lunch, while he was sitting in a bench in the hotel’s vast gardens and watching Raihan play with Delilah’s elderly ferrothorn – which, in fact, was _Raihan’s_ , or had been at some point – that Leon realized he’d gotten shovel-talked. 

He’d realized that wasn’t even the first time he’d gotten shovel-talked, in retrospect, but he was rather glad for it. Raihan deserved to have people who loved him enough to stand up for him and want him to be okay. 

After lunch and spectating a few matches from the more well-known rivalries amongst the members of the Association – and watching, bizarrely, Raihan’s gigalith blow up Lance, which was apparently a tradition of sorts – they’d turned in early to sleep off the last of jetlag. Raihan had told Leon that anything interesting in the Conference would happen after lunch – battles or presentations – mostly because drinking well into the night and spending most mornings bemoaning a hangover was _also_ a deep-seated Conference tradition. To Leon, who’d spent most of his life attending official League events and even had experience organizing a few of his own, it sounded like the Annual Dragon Conference was an excuse for members of the Dragon Association to get together, mess around and business expense their fun to the hosting league. Which Leon could sincerely respect, honestly. It was pretty impressive and the sort of thing Delilah would do. 

So the very first day, Leon woke up at five, because of course he did. 

After a small tour through the hotel’s gym, a nice shower, and a simple breakfast, he was ready for the day. And it was fine, he and Raihan had talked about it and Leon wanted to explore. He wasn’t a small child, he could take care of himself, and if he needed something, he could always call Raihan. And if Raihan woke up sometime before noon, he’d call Leon and see if he wanted company. It was fine. They had _planned_ for things. 

It still sucked that it wasn’t even nine in the morning and he was solidly, utterly, fantastically lost. 

“Excuse me,” he called out at a girl in a black dress, “where-“ 

“Battle!” She shrieked at him, and threw out a litwick to challenge him. 

Mimikyu did short work of that, but it wasn’t all terrible. She was far more amicable after her defeat and even gave Leon directions to where he might find what he was looking for. Of course, it was directions he had no hope to follow on his own, but at least he had a name now, for where he was supposed to be going. There was an abandoned hotel nearby, too, so he could try his luck there, as well. Ghost liked abandoned places, he just had to keep an eye out for ghost trainers who were a bit too enthusiastic about fights. 

After about three hours of meandering around the ruins – and getting challenged by a lot of trainers – all Leon had found was a colony of rotom, living and playing inside trashcans for some reason, that had befriended his phone and helpfully gotten him further into the ruins a few times, but not even a glimpse of what he was looking for. The hotel was nice, though, it had that sort of mischievous air that good haunted places had. He wondered if he could bring the triplets around to explore it later, but that depended on his ability to actually make his way here again. So there was that. 

“You’re very strong!” One of the skaters – there were skaters all over the hotel, all of whom wanted a fight and yet insisted Leon was not dressed up properly to challenge their leader – told him, as they faced each other in a cramped little room with a massive hole in the ceiling. “But I’m no slouch either!” 

In her glove, she had a keystone, similar to the one Piers wore in his necklace. 

Her mega lucario was stronger than any lucario Leon had ever fought before, which he’d known in theory, but the reality of it had caught him by surprise. Still, runerigus came through with those super effective, same type bonus earthquakes, which combined with the fact his opponent didn’t realize she was immune to fighting and normal attacks got him a victory. 

“Not getting a badge out of that,” she said, afterwards, reaching to shake his hand. “But if you want one, definitely drop by the Gym sometime.” 

Leon blinked. 

“Oh, no,” he laughed. “No, I’m not… I’m just visiting! I’m a Gym Trainer from Hammerlocke, in Galar.” 

“Oh,” her expression brightened as she smiled, “are you here for the Dragon party thing they’re having over in Lumiose? That Mrs. Drasna is organizing?” 

Leon nodded. 

“Yep,” he replied, grinning back at her. He sobered up slightly. “I just don’t… know how to get back there.” He laughed. “I guess I can just hop on charizard and fly high enough to see the big tower there, right?” 

She gave him an odd look. 

“That’s an option, yes,” she shrugged. “It’s just a hop and a skate away, though. You should be fine.” 

“Ah,” Leon said, sheepish, “I don’t know how to skate.” 

Which was probably the most diplomatic way to explain he couldn’t hope to find his way through a foreign route from ground level. It made her narrow her eyes, though. 

“What do you mean you don’t know how to skate?” She asked, hands on her hips. “It’s easy! And fun!” 

“Uh,” Leon replied, with a vague, sinking feeling. 

* * *

After his impromptu skating lesson, which ended up being on par with a regular workout, Leon felt mildly entitled to take it easy in the afternoon. Iris, reigning champion of Unova, was presenting a summary of recent events in her region, where apparently they had had their own version of the Darkest Day disaster going on. Leon was all topped off on legendary world ending disasters and called a raincheck on attending. 

It had nothing to do with Iris and Raihan having a dumb marriage inside joke that had caught Leon by surprise upon first meeting her. 

Obviously not. 

That’d be petty, and pettiness was to be acknowledged and dismissed, not indulged wantonly, lest it became a bad habit. 

Leon was tired and done with world-ending disasters, that was all. That’s why he was lying in the shade of a tree in the hotel’s vast gardens, playing fetch with a group of rowdy baby dragons that were skirting the line of being big enough to be dangerous in their antics. Fortunately for Leon, dragapult was game to babysit _any_ dragon babies, not just his own. Mr. Rime was also very good at providing entertainment: axew kept wanting to bite onto his cane and it was unironically one of the cutest things Leon had ever seen. 

“Raihan mentioned you had a talent to handle dragons,” Lance said, as he approached, “I see he was not exaggerating.” 

“I think everyone here has a talent to handle dragons,” Leon replied, laughing and not standing up, because he had a very cranky jangmo-o asleep in his lap and he knew better than to brave his wrath. “It’s not that special.” 

“Everyone here is good at training dragons, I’ll give you,” Lance replied, eyebrows arched, “but I’d reckon not everyone is good at _rearing_ them. Hammerlocke’s mission to protect and preserve dragon pokemon is, in fact, rather unique across other regions.” 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Leon said, shrugging. “Other regions don’t seem to have the same population issues we do. Raihan says Galar’s erratic weather is to blame.” 

“Yes, I read the article,” Lance said, a bit sharply, looking somewhat looming as he stood at a prudent distance. 

“There’s an article?” Leon blurted out in surprise, which he summarized was a dumb thing to say, given the slight narrowing of Lance’s eyes. 

“Several, actually,” Lance pointed out, frowning slightly. “Raihan publishes extensively on the rescue and conservation efforts done under his watch.” 

“Aaah, I don’t read what he publishes,” Leon explained, shrugging. “He’s self-conscious about it.” 

That was a boundary they had talked about and settled on, even though Leon was dying of curiosity to read how Raihan chose to word the little tirades he went on during lunch sometimes, about this or that bit of their – their! – work and what it meant for Galar and for knowledge of dragon pokemon as a whole. Raihan was weirdly self-conscious about stuff he published and Leon respected that by not reading it because he’d been asked to. It was fine. Even if it drove him nuts and he whined about it in Dr. Vale’s office, because unlike Sonia’s research into the history of Galar, Raihan’s perpetual bone to pick with Galar’s waning dragon population Leon understood and actively cared about. Even then, he respected it. Just like he respected Raihan’s friendship with Piers and the bits where it chaffed and explicitly didn’t include Leon. Just because he _felt_ pettiness it didn’t mean he had to act on it. 

He could do that. 

He _could_. 

“I find his work very nuanced,” Lance said, with a little shrug. 

“You should tell him that,” Leon replied, grinning. 

Lance didn’t seem to know what to say to that, because he stared at Leon for a long moment. 

“How’s Hammerlocke treating you?” He asked, eyebrows arched slightly. “I once served a term as Gym Trainer there, myself.” 

“It’s fun!” Leon said, brightening up considerably. “I mostly work at the rescue side of things, but I also coach people in doubles and do PR stuff. Sorta. Shhh, be nice,” he added, running a hand along the scales of the jangmo-o’s back, since it had woken up and immediately thrown a scale display at Lance. “I’m learning a lot.” 

“Yes,” Lance said, nodding severely. He had, in general, a very severe-looking face, Leon wasn’t sure he’d seen him smile yet, though he’d looked suitably surprised when he’d gotten exploded on, the day before. “You must know how deeply Raihan values the historical significance of Hammerlocke and his place in it. Anything or anyone who threatens that will not be… taken kindly.” 

Leon snorted. 

“I’m pretty sure Hammerlocke’s status is basically untouchable right now,” he explained. “Raihan is the uncontested, strongest Gym Leader in Galar, and he’s as much an institution as the Gym itself by this point. Besides—Dracovish!” Leon called out. “No eating the topiaries! Get back here!” 

Lance made a noise of surprise as Leon’s youngest and yet largest dragon baby slinked their way back, blubbering pitifully. They loomed above them both before they dropped to the ground with a whine and pressed their face against Leon’s side, as if to beg forgiveness. 

“Sorry,” Leon said, curling an arm along the large fish-like head, fingers finding their favorite scratch spot right around their neck, which resulted in a leg absently kicking air. “Baby dragons, you know? They’re a handful.” 

“That’s…” Lance began, looking constipated, and gestured a bit helplessly at the seven feet of whiny fossil monstrosity begging for Leon’s attention, since Leon had so rudely forbidden it from eating the garden decorations. “New.” 

“Dracovish is unique,” Leon said cheerfully, which got him a happy chirp from them in reply. “Only one in the whole world, even. But don’t let looks fool you, he’s very much a baby.” Lance approached too much, it seemed, because Dracovish froze in place and then spat a water gun at his face. “…a skittish, bratty baby,” Leon corrected, resisting the urge to laugh. “He’s just moved on from flight to fight, recently.” 

“Charming,” Lance deadpanned, valiantly ignoring the water dripping down his face and along his cape. “Excuse me, I need to change.” 

Leon made the effort to not laugh, only because he wasn’t sure if Lance would take offense. 

“Sorry!” He said, waving as Lance stalked away. He looked down at dracovish, who was doing their best impression of a lazy meowth. “You do realize you can’t just water-gun all of life’s problems away, right? Proper conflict resolution is a necessary skill for a healthy, happy life, you know!” 

Dracovish gurgled eloquently and blew large spit bubbles at him, unrepentant. 

Leon sighed. 

* * *

Leon was lost, again. 

Well, not exactly. He’d figured out the best way to track down what he was looking for was to track down spooky, ghost-infested places. That was relatively easy to do, partly because he’d gotten better at listening for things, over the last few months, but also mostly because dhelmise had a – metaphorical – nose for that, so Leon felt comfortable riding on the edge of the anchor, and let it choose the way. This meant, of course, that he knew exactly where he was _headed_ , but he had no idea at all where he was at any given moment. The main advantage was, of course, that dhelmise was having a blast tracking down their destination and Leon was enjoying the scenery. Kalos really was very beautiful, fields and mountains and grasslands all lively despite the inevitable winter just about to come. There was a chill in the air, but it still hadn’t reached the point of full on cold, and he found himself wondering if it snowed here, the same way it did back home: relentless blizzards every night and the soft, almost picturesque snowfall during the coldest days. It didn’t seem likely, not with the way the earth itself seemed to be warm, here. 

And besides, when it came time to head back, he was sure charizard would be up to fly him back. 

By midmorning, dhelmise stopped in front of an indent in a nearby hill that upon closer inspection led into a passage into a cave. It was empty, but in a way that rubbed Leon the wrong way, like an itch at the very tip of his nose that hadn’t properly decided to become a sneeze yet. He realized why, after a second look around the cave: there were wards carved into the rock. If his Nan was around, she’d know what they meant, but he’d never really gotten that far studying that kind of thing. He learned enough to not get possessed, like some of the trainers he’d fought the day prior, around the hotel’s ruins, but it wasn’t like he wanted to become a _medium_ or anything. Sure, his Nan had fun stories – and a good deal that _weren’t_ fun, too – but it just… didn’t seem like the kind of thing Leon wanted to do. Pokemon battles were secondary, for mediums, and Leon had always known that he wanted to dedicate himself to battles. 

The one thing he was good at, after all. 

Upon closer inspection, the wards were… poorly made, it seemed. A bit hurried. Maybe that was why the place still pulsed with echoes, though all Leon could make out were garbled whispers. It was like someone was trying to seal off something, but couldn’t actually see it. Which was… not ideal. Leon’s Nan always said you shouldn’t tangle with anything you couldn’t see, and she saw a lot more than Leon did. Leon gave the whole cave another look, before deciding he was better off looking elsewhere, so he turned to leave. 

As he did, the edge of his left foot caught on something and he found himself tripping over and landing on the ground, as long as he was. 

“…ow.” 

When Leon sat up, he realized there was something lying on the floor at his feet, and he leaned in to get a better look. It looked like a chunk of rock of sorts, only… only it had a more purposeful shape. Like it had been carved into it. When he touched it, he felt a shudder run down his spine, but it was a sort of distant feeling, like it was something happening to someone else he was just watching from a distance. The whispers became very loud but not any clearer, and then, the whole chunk disappeared at once. 

“Huh,” Leon said, blinking at the empty space left in the floor of the cave. 

Whatever had been there, it was gone now, but he didn’t feel upset about it. There were ghosts and spirits that needed to be sealed away, when they became dangerous, but there were a good deal that also got sealed just because people were scared of them or thought they were creepy. You could tell when something bad was about, ghosts were not inclined to be subtle about how they felt. He sat there for a moment longer, basking in the silence just to make sure, but the air was clean and there wasn’t any real tension left behind. 

Eventually, he figured he should probably head back out, considering nothing much happened. 

The cave was, after all, empty. 

“What are you, kid, lost?” 

Leon blinked at the source of the – kind of actually rude – question, and realized it was a woman in dark orange uniform that itched at his mind until he realized it was a variation of the Ranger Corp. uniform. She did not look very amused or thrilled to be where she was, standing in the middle of nowhere and giving Leon an exasperated look. 

“Technically?” Leon said, head tilted slightly to the side. “I guess?” 

“Figures,” she said, rolling her eyes at him, “there’s nothing here for miles, except some hex maniac nutjob, going around riding a dhelmise like a goddamn scooter and sending people into a panic, apparently. Seen him about?” 

Leon stared blankly at her before he shrugged delicately. 

“Uh,” he said, very convincingly, “afraid not, I was exploring the cave.” He paused. “It’s empty.” 

She gave him a look that wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming. 

“It’s called the Chamber of Emptiness,” she deadpanned, “on account of all the nothing inside it.” 

“Oh,” Leon replied, wincing. “Sorry, I’m not… it’s my first time visiting Kalos.” 

“You keep wandering off into spooky, abandoned places in the middle of nowhere, kid, and it’s gonna be your last.” 

Leon found himself standing there, unsure what to answer to that. The Ranger looked down her nose at him, clearly unimpressed by him in general. 

“Scram.” 

Without any better options, Leon did. 

* * *

“Are you _sure_ , though?” 

Leon blinked as Raihan dropped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close enough to press a kiss to the crown of his head. 

“You’ve been downplaying your skill the entire trip,” Raihan pointed out, one eyebrow arched. “Go out there and put the fear of you and Hammerlocke in everyone present and I’ll pretend it was a strategy all along.” 

Leon opened his mouth to argue, paused, and then closed it with a wince. 

“It wasn’t a strategy,” he admitted, not looking at Raihan in the eye. “For the record.” 

“I know,” Raihan said, but he didn’t sound upset. “Are we going to talk about it, though?” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“Yes,” he said, and then looked up at Raihan with a small smile, “but only after I’ve put the fear of me and Hammerlocke in everyone present.” 

Raihan grinned. 

“Have fun, Lee,” he said, head tilted to the side. “It’s okay to get a little rough, everyone here can take it.” 

Leon walked rather bravely into the pitch and found himself immediately challenged by Clair, so he was going in without a proper warm up. She was fierce and vicious and all her dragons were visibly and appreciably strong. Leon’s aegislash and dragapult were still more than enough to grind them all down, though, and as the battle raged on, he found himself falling back into the comfortable mindset of a Champion defending a title, rather than the careful restraint of a Gym Trainer hoping to impart a lesson. 

After Clair was Lance, who was definitely not in the least bit willing to pull back punches, throwing a hydreigon against Leon’s dragapult and aiming to _win_. Leon watched remorseless as mimikyu decimated the rest of his team in retaliation, almost without breaking a sweat. Lance didn’t call foul for it, either, even though Leon used something that wasn’t a dragon type, because Leon was a dragon trainer – Raihan insisted he was, with that self-assured confidence that had led Leon to think he could have a place in Hammerlocke Gym – but he wasn’t _just_ a dragon trainer. 

He’d been a ghost trainer, once, and then as Champion he specialized in everything and nothing with the careful thoughtfulness of PR and good impressions. Now he was a dragon trainer – he _was_ , he wore the uniform with his league number and he looked after babies and rescues and he liked it a lot more than teaching people doubles, to be honest – visiting another region, at the largest and most prestigious meeting of dragon trainers in the world. _I’m not like you_ , Leon did not scream at all the weathered veterans that stepped up to see what he was really made of. Not because it wasn’t true, or he wasn’t still wrestling with figuring out what it meant, but because he didn’t know how to not make it sound dismissive, when accompanied by such staggering, brutal defeats. 

Ghost trainer. Champion. Gym Trainer. 

In the end, he was still the strongest in the field and the only person allowed to challenge him on even ground was Raihan. 

“You remind me of me,” Drake’s apprentice, Zinnia, told him, as she stepped up to face him. “A long time ago.” 

“What do you mean?” Leon asked, frowning as she threw out both a salamance and a noivern at the same time. 

“The way you battle,” she explained, folding her arms over her chest and clearly waiting to see what he was going to offer as retaliation. “You’re all strength and no real purpose.” 

Leon narrowed his eyes and ended up going for haxorus rather than dragapult at the last second, sending her out alongside aegislash. It was a very effective combo, in his experience. Raihan liked to call it overkill, but then, Raihan knew enough about doubles to see right through him and didn’t let him set up properly. 

“I _have_ a purpose,” Leon said, eyes narrowed, feeling defensive. “Aegislash.” 

Aegislash’s wide guard spread out to cover haxorus, who began her dragon dance without Leon having to give her the explicit command. 

“You have a _place_ ,” Zinnia said, challengingly, eyes narrowed, “that’s not nearly the same thing. Crunch and dragon pulse!” 

Leon almost felt the way the attacks hammered against aegislash’s defenses, but in the end, his old friend held strong and remained in place. Zinnia clicked her tongue, eyes narrowed. 

“Screech,” Leon said, almost at the same time as aegislash released the onslaught on everything in the field, including haxorus. “Breaking swipe.” 

There was nothing she or her pokemon could do, in the face of haxorus' monstrous strength, further augmented by her buffed attack and their depleted defense. 

“You remind me of me,” Zinnia insisted, as she recalled her fainted pokemon, but she was smiling as she stepped up to shake Leon’s hand. “Some people… most people,” she corrected, as she refused to let go of Leon’s hand immediately and instead tightened her grip, as if to anchor him in place. “They’re okay, not having a purpose. Just… living each day is enough for them. But people who were _raised_ for a purpose, we’re quite likely to go mad without one.” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“What’s the difference?” He asked, rather than argue, because the words rang true enough he felt… deceitful ignoring them. “Between a place and a purpose.” 

“Someone gives you a place, either because you earned it or because they feel sorry for you,” Zinnia pointed out, finally letting go of his hand. “But you _choose_ your purpose, and no one can ever hope to take it away from you.” 

Leon inclined his head, not quite a bow, but respectful, nonetheless. 

“Thank you.” 

She turned away. 

“It’s not about you,” she said, waving her hand dismissively as she walked away. “Just paying forward an old kindness. You do whatever you want.” 

Leon watched Drake say something to her, though he couldn’t make out the words as she threw her arms up in the air dramatically in a way that made the older man laugh in amusement. He was snapped back to reality when Delilah stepped across him, expression wry. 

“For old times’ sake?” She asked, eyebrows arched tauntingly. 

Leon grinned. 

“Always.” 

* * *

Leon was something of a connoisseur, when it came to hotels and their amenities, and even he had to admit the tub in their suite was… borderline obscene. 

It was big enough for Raihan to soak in without a fuss, which in itself was certainly an achievement, but it was also big enough for _both_ of them to soak in at once, if they didn’t mind cuddling in the process. Leon was halfway sure you could house an entire lapras in it without much problem. It was pretty awesome. 

“Okay, fine,” Raihan said, sprawled on top of Leon with his head pillowed on his shoulder, looking like he was in the process of melting into the water. “This is a decent incentive to wake up this early.” 

“It’s eight in the morning,” Leon pointed out, running a hand along Raihan’s back, “that’s not _early_.” 

“It’s early for us normal plebes who need an alarm to wake up before ten, baby,” Raihan muttered, not bothering to open his eyes. 

Leon chuckled and then let the silence stretch, comfortable. It was nice, just lying there, in the hot water, without anything really pressing demanding their attention. No real schedule to keep up with, at least not until after lunch, and a mega evolution demonstration with the previous Champion and her successors, because apparently Kalos had two reigning Champions. Sort of. Leon was a bit foggy on the details and everyone took it in stride without asking many questions, in a way that telegraphed there was _history_ to that, so he felt awkward about it. 

Apparently, it was like regions took turns every other year, unleashing legendaries and evil teams to plot destruction on a global scale. Galar didn’t get many news about that sort of thing, which seemed dumb to him, but all the deeply isolationist infrastructure that Rose had built was… insidious in how it made sense so long as you didn’t think too hard about the rest of the world. 

Sometimes Leon wondered what would have happened, if Rose has succeeded. If Leon had done his part and helped him bind Eternatus to his will… what then? What about the rest of the world? Rose only ever talked about Galar, and try as he might, Leon never found that very comforting, when he thought about it. 

“What if I’m not good enough to be here?” Leon blurted out after a moment and winced when Raihan’s eyes snapped open. 

“I mean,” he said, shifting enough so he could look at Leon in the eye, though he was still pressed tight against his side, “I’m going out on a limb and guessing the sixteen matches you fought yesterday, and the corresponding sixteen uncontested victories are not a good enough answer to that question, huh.” 

“You work so hard, though,” Leon said, frowning. “All of you. You’re… dedicated to this. You put in time and effort, I’m just. I’m an idiot who gets lost in a straight corridor and probably, I don’t know, happens to smell the right way so dragons don’t eat me. It’s not-“ 

“Am I seriously going to have to give you a performance review while we’re lying naked in a bathtub?” Raihan interrupted, eyebrows arched. “Is that a thing that’s happening right now?” 

“I’m sorry,” Leon said, wincing, “I’m being-“ 

Raihan shifted, raising a hand to hold Leon’s head, fingers digging into the makeshift bun keeping most of his hair dry, and using it as a handle to tug him down until Raihan could press his lips against his. Leon melted, just like always, because it turned out he still hadn’t figured out how _not_ to melt whenever Raihan kissed him like he was trying to breathe the air right out of his lungs. The shift, however, was not as graceful as it usually was, because it turned out bathtubs full of hot water were slippery and not quite as solid as beds so while Leon did end up sitting on Raihan’s lap, they were also both soaking wet in the aftermath. 

“Well, that went a lot smoother in my head,” Raihan said, blinking up at Leon as he pushed wet hair out of his face. “In my defense, this is not how I like to start performance reviews of any kind.” 

Leon stared down at him for a long moment and then cracked up laughing, burying his face in his hands to try and smother his cackling. 

“Hey, now, be serious,” Raihan protested, laughter tinting the edges of his tone, “I’m trying to have a productive conversation with you.” 

“I’m being ridiculous again, aren’t I,” Leon said, and it wasn’t a question at all. 

“Just a tad,” Raihan replied, and then bounced Leon a little, grinning. “You work hard, Lee. You do most of the heavy lifting when it comes to the rescue side of things, including cleanup and grooming, which I know for a fact Camilla keeps dumping on you even though I’ve told her explicitly not to lean so hard on you.” He rolled his eyes, but he sounded fond of her. “You not only learned an entirely new battle format in actually pretty respectable record time, but you learned it well enough to _teach_ others what you learned. Not to mention the fact you actually learned how to not steamroll people in battle enough for them to _learn_ something, that’s actually really hard to do.” Raihan paused. “And you do a lot of stuff at home too, which I don’t really put in your Gym evaluations because that’d be unfair to everyone else, but I do notice and appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, but I _enjoy_ that,” Leon blurted out, before he thought better of it. 

Raihan paused, clearly caught off guard. 

“Just because you enjoy something and it doesn’t make you miserable, it doesn’t mean it isn’t work, Lee,” he said slowly, brow furrowed. “Like… okay, you painted the backyard, last week.” 

“It needed to get done,” Leon pointed out, shrugging because this was a conversation they’d already stumbled through and got nowhere with already, even though it never got to become a proper argument either. “And I reckoned I could do it, so I did.” 

“I mean, yes,” Raihan snorted, and bounced him again. “But my point is, I was going to hire someone to do it. That was going to be someone’s literal job for a day, that you just did because you felt like it. You having fun with it doesn’t make it any less hard work.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, not unlike how they often stared at each other across the pitch right before the start of a battle. 

“You’re being sensible and understanding,” Leon pointed out, lips twitching sideways into a slight sulk, admitting defeat. 

“Oh no,” Raihan said, bouncing Leon in place, before sitting up properly, coming face to face with him. “How dare I.” 

“I guess all you can do is make it up to me,” Leon said, one eyebrow arched challengingly. 

“Oh, _I_ have to make it up to _you_?” Raihan asked, leaning in to kiss Leon with just enough teeth to catch his lip on them, but not really hurt. 

“Obviously,” Leon retorted, eyes half-lidded, “I’m the one who got his perfectly pitiful self-deprecating spiral gloriously derailed. There go all my plans for the morning, ruined.” 

Raihan laughed, incredulous, and pulled him closer so he could kiss him with due intent. Sure, sex was not the answer to all of life’s problems and Leon knew it. 

But even if it didn’t fix anything, it was an excellent way to pass the time, in his humble opinion. 

* * *

“They said I married a _man_ and that didn’t make you think _maybe_ there was something suspect about that headline?” 

Leon winced at the question. Rotom shook itself sympathetically, and very politely did not switch to video conference, so at least Leon didn’t have to see what Sonia’s face looked like. 

“In my defense,” Leon began, sheepish. 

“You don’t _get_ a defense,” Sonia interrupted, “it’s unlawfully early o’clock in the morning, Leon, and you woke me up to ask why I didn’t invite you to my _wedding_? To one of the two _idiots_ that nearly got my breakout book blacklisted? _Really?_ ” 

“It’s the first piece of media about Galar I’ve seen all week, okay! It’s just a little blurb and a few weird angle shots, so I just-“ 

“I’m going to hang up now,” Sonia said, tersely, “and I will endeavor to forget this conversation even happened. So maybe when you get home, I won’t immediately try to strangle you with my bare hands.” 

Leon and rotom shared a long moment of awkward silence before his phone gave a little shake Leon knew meant to be a shrug, and slid back into his pocket. He gave the magazine that had started the whole debacle a dirty look – ROYAL SCANDAL IN THE FAR-OFF LAND OF GALAR, A WEDDING THAT HERALDS A NEW QUEEN! – and then rolled it up roughly, fully intending to have charizard perform a very cathartic incineration later. 

“Well, you look excited about dinner tonight,” Raihan said, walking into the small corner of the lobby where Leon had retreated to make his phone call. 

Leon looked up to show him the magazine and stopped dead in his tracks. 

He’d seen the suit back home, of course, when Henri insisted on delivering it – and the one Leon was wearing – in person and then went on a forty minute excruciating rant about how precisely they should wear his fashion master pieces and how murderously disappointed he would be if they fucked it up and misrepresented him in his own hometown. Leon already knew how to wear a suit – his own was a slight variation of the suits Henri had designed for him, during his Chairman days: mate white, long lines and a dark red dress shirt with a pearl-white tie – and all the little details that had to be perfect: cufflinks and buttons and tie clips and socks and shoes. He even tied up his hair in a half-bun to wear the little rose hairpin Henri insisted pulled together the whole design. 

But folded clothes were nothing to Raihan in impeccable Hammerlocke blue and a dark orange dress shirt, every tiny, impeccable detail in place: the slightly darker blue tie, the hair down, the buttons and the cufflinks in gold but shaped like Hammerlocke’s dragon emblem. 

It occurred to Leon that he’d never actually _seen_ Raihan dressed formally, because the kind of event that required that level of pomposity was handled by the League and it didn’t bother to include Gym Leaders that way. Or maybe, Leon thought, a little cynically, Rose hadn’t wanted to involved them in any way. Perhaps he and Mia should have chat about that, once he got home. 

“You look good,” Leon croaked, face heating up when Raihan blinked in surprise and then leaned in to leer into his face, which only made the heat on his cheeks get hotter. 

“You clean up rather nicely yourself,” Raihan said, like the terrible tease he was, clearly amused by how flustered Leon was. He leaned in to press a kiss to Leon’s cheek. “Ready for tonight?” 

Leon tightened his grip on the magazine and then relaxed it, slowly. Just a little. 

He decided to be selfish, just for a bit. 

“Yep,” he said, and then reached out to pull Raihan back down so he could kiss him properly. “You?” 

“Got the hottest date in town,” Raihan teased, brushing Leon’s hair back over his shoulder. “So I’m all good.” 

“That’s impossible,” Leon retorted, eyebrows arched. “ _I_ ’ve got the hottest date.” 

“If you’ve got the hottest date and I’ve got the hottest date, then who’s driving the car?” Raihan asked, eyebrows arched right back, and lopsided smirk flashing the tip of a fang. 

“I-“ 

“Oh, will you stop that,” Delilah said, from the stairs, and Leon could feel her eye-roll all the way from where they were standing. “We’re going to be late.” 

Her full-length gown, Leon noted, was _also_ in Hammerlocke colors, but in slightly desaturated hues. It didn’t really become obvious until she was standing right next to Raihan. 

“Wouldn’t dare,” Raihan replied, laughter in his voice, as he pulled Leon close, one arm falling easily over his shoulders. “Ma’am.” 

Delilah stomped her way to them with the same air of terrible menace of her kommo-o. 

“If you think for a moment I won’t beat the impertinent tar out of you in front of your boyfriend,” she said, waving a threatening finger up at Raihan’s face. “You’ve got another thing coming, little drake.” She scoffed when all Raihan did was laugh. “You’re not even wearing your Chain.” 

Raihan stopped laughing and stared down at her. 

“Yes,” he deadpanned, “because I’d ever take that out of the _Keep_ , never mind the freaking _country._ ” 

“Chain?” Leon asked, confused. 

“The oversized paper weight he inherited from me,” Delilah explained, amused. 

Raihan rolled his eyes. 

“Yes,” he snorted, “the oversized paper weight that’s _worth_ as much as the entire Keep I inherited from you. Yes.” 

“You’ve got the shoulders to wear it and the youth to not care how utterly stupid you look when you do,” Delilah pointed out, clearly entertained by Raihan’s budding annoyance. “If not now, then when?” 

“Uh, let me think,” Raihan said, feigning ignorance, “hopefully never?” 

Raihan’s rotom, who seemed to be the only one who noticed how lost Leon was, floated down to Leon’s eye level and showed him a picture of a thick, intricate chain with links the size of his fists and various emblems hanging from it. It looked like it was made of solid gold. 

“How _heavy_ is that?” Leon asked, morbidly horrified. 

“A lot,” both Raihan and Delilah answered in unison, and then shared a look and a good laugh that dispelled all the tension at once. 

Before the conversation could pick up again, Diantha, Kalos former Champion and a key organizer of the Conference was there to take them to the very fancy restaurant they were going to have dinner in. Leon casually dropped the crumpled magazine in a trashcan, hopefully without anyone really noticing. 

He needed to apologize to Sonia and make amends for that lapse in judgment, but he couldn’t do anything about that until he got home. 

He’d sort it out, when he got home. 

* * *

The dragon roared at him, the scales along the fan-like crest behind its head lighting up in fluorescent green, along with the shimmering pattern of its belly. It was more serpent-like than anything, but Leon reckoned he knew enough about dragon types to recognize the classic signs of one, even if he had absolutely no idea what this particular species was. It was suitably big, though, filling out almost the entirety of the chamber Leon had accidentally rolled into. 

Leon kept himself in place, sitting with his back against the rock wall, and refused to flinch at the bright threat display that illuminated the cave. 

It seemed confused when Leon didn’t overtly react to it, so it repeated the display several times, a little more tentatively each time. When it finally stopped and leaned down to stare at him through it’s strangely hexagonal-patterned eyes, Leon smiled brightly at it. 

“Hi!” He said, carefully not moving. “I’m sorry I woke you up, I didn’t mean to fall into your den.” 

Literally, at that. 

One moment he was trying to track down whatever pulse of… _something_ in the large field, and the next thing he knew he’d walked into a hole and found himself rolling all the way into the dragon’s den. The dragon startled a little at the sound of his voice, and flashed him another threat display, but it was less aggressive and more… like a panicked after thought. Leon did not laugh, with the same practiced aplomb that he’d trained to not laugh at the baby jangmo-o’s scale displays. 

“I’m going stand up, alright?” Leon said, as the lights died out, and then gingerly pulled himself upright by trying his best to keep himself from intruding further into the dragon’s personal space. “See? All good.” 

It was a very lovely dragon, Leon thought, watching the great serpentine body coil around itself, not ready to strike, but rather, studying him. The crest behind its head had lowered just enough that it wasn’t overtly aggressive anymore. Leon wished he could take a picture, to show Raihan later, but he doubted the skittish thing would appreciate getting photographed and Leon didn’t want to get it rearing for a fight. 

“So, I’m just gonna…” Leon pointed up, to the slanted rock wall he slid through on the way down. It was going to be a bit of a chore to climb it up, but, well. All that strength training had to be good for something, right? “If you don’t mind?” 

The dragon waved the tip of its tail at him, a few scales lighting up along the length of its body, but nothing like the initial show. 

Leon nodded, swallowed hard, and very decisively turned his back to it. 

There was a bout a fifty-fifty chance it was going to lash out at him, and as he studied the rock for a route up, he kept counting in his head. When he reached fifty – solid number, fifty – and he realized he wasn’t being harassed, he took a deep breath and reached out for the first makeshift hand hold. He hauled himself up a few feet and then risked looking back. The pokemon was curled up in a more relaxed posture, watching him go with a certain air of bored indifference that Leon swore was a secret hidden ability of all dragon pokemon. 

Leon sighed, and kept climbing, high enough he no longer could see the den and the light from outside became noticeable. That light caught something stuck in the rocks that reflected it straight into his eyes and nearly made him lose his balance. He managed to hold onto the rocks under his hands and then hoist himself up so he wasn’t in direct line of the reflection. He stared at a shard of… golden crystal stuck into the wall. It looked… like a quartz, maybe. A shiny rock, of sorts. On a whim, he tried to pull it out, and it slid free without little to no resistance, like it had just been placed there on purpose. It was a weird shape, though, for a crystal. The edges were transparent, with a solid golden core, but the pointy shape was smooth, like it had been polished. 

As soon as Leon touched it, he realized this was the beacon he’d been following while he explored the field. 

It was a bit disappointing, really. It was very… _loud_ , sure, but once he had it in hand it seemed to quiet down. He wondered if it was one of those things that ghost-type pokemon could hold to strengthen their moves. It was pretty, either way. He supposed it could make for a souvenier of sorts. 

He put it in his pocket and kept climbing out of the hole in the ground, until he was lying on the grass, taking a breather. 

Eventually, he rolled back to his feet and started walking back towards the route, proper. …probably. He was walking down the hill, at least. As he slowly made his way down, somewhat paranoid that he was going to trip down another concealed hole and into a dragon’s nest, worst case scenario, the _same_ dragon’s nest, he realized there was a tall, long haired blonde walking resolutely uphill towards him. She did not stop to speak with him, looking a little frayed around the edges, but she definitely saw him because she gave him a wide breadth. Leon realized after a moment that she was trying to avoid getting caught in a battle, and that she thought Leon was a trainer out in the wild, looking for a fight. 

Which, technically speaking, he was. 

Sort of. 

Just not against a trainer. 

“Hey!” He called out, waving a hand. “Careful, there’s a dragon den up there!” 

That caused her to stop and looked down at him in surprise. She was very striking, Leon thought, between the black clothes and the long, blonde hair. She looked a bit like a super villain, except for the fact her expression was determined but not unkind. 

“What kind of dragon den?” She asked, walking back to where Leon was, slowly. 

“I don’t actually know the species,” Leon admitted sheepishly. “I’m not from Kalos. I’m from-“ 

“Galar,” she interrupted, hands on her hips. “Hammerlocke, yes? You must be here for the Dragon Conference.” 

Leon blinked at her in surprise, and then looked down at himself on reflex, wondering if he’d somehow dressed up in uniform without thinking, even though he _hadn’t_ brought a uniform with him. Instead he realized he was wearing the joke t-shirt the triplets had gotten for him explicitly for the trip: it was orange with big, blocky letters in black that read _IF LOST, RETURN TO RAIHAN._ The siblings had matching shirts themselves, that advertised the fact they weren’t Raihan, while Raihan had been given one that said _YES, I AM ACTUALLY RAIHAN._ It wasn’t in Hammerlocke colors or had any emblems in it, so that meant she had to know Raihan somehow, to get the reference. 

“Maybe I’ll drop by,” she said, looking stern. “But I have other business to attend to.” She paused. “Did you capture the pokemon in the den?” 

Leon shook his head. 

“There’d be no point,” he explained. “It’s not native in Galar so I wouldn’t be able to take it home. It looks powerful, though, so be careful if you’re planning to take it on.” 

She seemed to consider this for a moment, and then turned to him. She had a very commanding presence, the sort of careless confidence of someone who was very sure of their strength. Leon wondered if he could ask for a battle, he reckoned she’d be strong. 

“Did you get a good look at its den?” She asked, head tilted to the side. “I’m looking for something, but it’s a long shot if it’s there. Maybe you can spare me the trip and that dragon the fight.” 

“It was a very tiny den, for the size of that dragon, but yes,” Leon said, “I got to see pretty much all of it, while it was doing its threat display.” He paused. “There was nothing in it.” 

“Nothing at all?” She pressed. “No altar with an orb in it?” 

Leon shook his head. 

“Nope, just bare rock wall all around. Ah,” he added, as he fished the strange crystal from his pocket. “I found this in the wall, but I wouldn’t call where I found it an altar.” 

She looked at the crystal dubiously and waved dismissingly at it, which Leon supposed meant she couldn’t _sense_ it. Even in his hand, quieted down as it was, it was a pretty loud beacon. It occurred to him that maybe he could use that, to try and find what he’d been looking for, in the first place. So perhaps it was a good thing she wasn’t interested in it at all. 

“I wouldn’t call that an orb, either,” she said, with a sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” Leon said sympathetically, as he’d spent the entire week looking and failing to find something. He was familiar with that frustration. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“I don’t think so, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think I asked you your name, I’m sorry. I’m Cynthia.” 

“Leon,” he replied, offering a hand to shake. 

However, when he touched her hand, he felt it, a pulse of power so strong it nearly threw him back. It echoed loudly, but it didn’t come from her. He pulled his hand away, as if scalded, and stared at her waist, where the source of it was half hidden by her coat. The screeching stopped, as soon as he stopped touching her, but the echo remained, thundering like a migraine in the back of his head. 

“That thing you’re carrying-“ Leon began, eyes fixed to the pokeball in her belt, covered in paper wards. 

“You’re a medium?” Cynthia asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Ghost trainer,” Leon said, licking his lips. “That’s-“ 

“Under control,” she replied in a clipped tone. “At least for now.” 

For the second time in the same week, Leon found himself offering the same advice he and Gloria wished they had been given, back in the aftermath of the Darkest Day. 

“You can’t keep it sealed away in a pokeball like that,” he said, “the longer you keep it there, the angrier it’s going to be when you release it.” 

“That’s alright, it should never be released at all,” Cynthia said, turning away suddenly. “Give my regards to Raihan, I’m afraid I won’t be making it to the conference this year either.” 

“Wait!” Leon said, but when he grabbed her arm, as if to stop her, the migraine returned with a vengeance. 

He had to let go, before it latched onto him. He had to. He sat back on the grass, stunned like he’d been hit with rhyperior’s stone edge, and could do nothing but watch her ride her togekiss and disappear into the distance. 

The only consolation was that he did find the pokemon he’d been looking for, in the end, because the crystal and the echoes of whatever Cynthia was carrying were enough to make it reach out. 

It was a tiny consolation, though, in the large scheme of things. 

* * *

Raihan wouldn’t tell him anything about Cynthia, neither who she was or what she was doing, and it annoyed Leon a good deal. 

He figured out the first one, because the internet existed, and Sinnoh’s previous Champion had been almost legendarily strong. The second one, however, was a mystery. There were whispers about an incident in Sinnoh, six years prior, and the Champion being dethroned shortly after. No one had seen her since. No one seemed to know where she was or what she was doing, and certainly no one seemed to know what the hell she was carrying poorly sealed hanging off her belt. 

“It’s not my place to tell you,” Raihan said, at long last. “It’s not… It’s complicated, and it’s not my story to tell. I’m sorry.” 

“We can help her, you know,” Leon said, “me and Gloria. We can help. And whatever she’s carrying, she’s only making it worse the longer she keeps it sealed like that.” 

Raihan reached out to run a hand through Leon’s hair, halfway a caress, halfway a soothing gesture. Then he leaned in to press his lips to Leon’s forehead. 

“The thing about offering people help, Lee,” he said, pulling away just enough to look Leon in the eye, “is that you have to be willing to let them turn you down. Cynthia feels responsible for what’s she’s doing, and she will not accept anyone's help, so long as she thinks she can fix it on her own, because she feels that’s dragging people into her mess.” He kissed Leon’s cheek next. “You have to let it go. You can’t help the unwilling, no matter how much you wish you could. So you just… have to let it go and hope one day, when she’s ready, she’ll think of you when she _wants_ help.” 

“She’s your friend,” Leon realized, reaching up to hold Raihan’s face in his hand. 

“One of my best, yes,” Raihan replied, eyes half lidded and expression melancholic. 

“I’m sorry,” Leon whispered, “it must hurt to know she’s in trouble and not be able to help.” 

“It’s not about me or my feelings, Lee,” Raihan said. “She knows all she has to do is call. I’ve made sure she knows that no matter what, I’ll be there to help when she’s ready. All she has to do is call. I have to trust her to know when is the right time, to make that call. That’s all I can do.” 

Leon was quiet for a moment and then tugged Raihan down enough to press a kiss to his lips. 

“You should record today’s session,” he said, eyes shrewd. “Share it with her. Maybe it’ll help her reconsider, maybe it’ll comfort her. I don’t know her at all, Rai, but from what I saw? She could use a reminder, that she can still make that call.” 

“You don’t know if today’s session is going to go well,” Raihan pointed out, because he was just a smidgen nervous about Leon’s flippant offer to help Kalos’ Champions deal with their own legendary problems. 

“It will,” Leon said, confident, “I’ve done this before.” 

“Last time you tried to catch a legendary you broke three ribs and it nearly ate you,” Raihan insisted, eyes narrowed. 

“Exactly,” Leon said, laughing. “You can’t _catch_ legendaries, you have to be chosen by them. Calem and Serena have been chosen, it will be alright. I’m just there for moral support, really, just like I did for Gloria.” 

Raihan looked dubious, still, but he sighed. 

“I hope you understand what a reckless, dangerous thing this is,” he said, leaning in to bury his face into Leon’s hair. 

Leon laughed. 

“Free falls with charizard are my favorite past time, remember?” He winked. “Reckless and dangerous are prerequisites for fun, as far as I’m aware.” 

Raihan stared down at him for a moment. 

“God, I love you,” he sighed, and then pulled Leon into his arms, to kiss him for a sold ten minutes, until Diantha was there, knocking at their door and looking for Leon. 

“It’s time,” she said, politely not mentioning how flushed and slightly out of breath they both looked. “They’re waiting for you down at the lobby.” 

“Thank you,” Leon said, stepping out of the room as she stepped back to let him through. 

She grabbed his arm, though, grip sure and strong, right at the elbow, and stared at him right in the eye. 

“Leon, you must promise me,” she said, expression fierce, “no matter what happens, their safety must be your first priority.” 

Leon placed a hand on hers and nodded. 

“That’s what I’m there for,” he said. “To make sure everyone’s safe.” 

Solemnly, she nodded back. 

* * *

Calem’s xerneas was easy to appease, once it was released from its ultraball. 

All it took was a solemn apology for keeping it locked away for so long – a year and a half, from what Leon could gather – and then, of all things, an apple. Sure, it was ten feet of legendary with untold powers, but it liked apples and getting petted down its neck. Leon knew for sure they were going to be alright, the moment Calem got licked in the neck and let out a shriek of surprise that caused his pokemon to jump in place, playful. 

Serena’s yveltal, however, was an entirely different story. 

It didn’t attack, which Leon thought was a good thing, but it also… curled around itself, not quite into a ball, like it was _bracing_ for attack. Serena was a little lost what to do, because it didn’t seem to be listening and Leon said they couldn’t just… put it back into the pokeball until it agreed to go on its own. Leon sent Calem away, so he and Diantha could work more on xerneas and helping it come to terms with the mundanity of every day life. He chose to stay with Serena, instead, camping with supplies that Raihan got them, so they could keep an eye on yveltal and wait until it was ready for them. 

Fortunately, the place they’d chosen to do this was out of the way enough, that no one would stumble in and interrupt, or possibly get hurt if things got rough. 

“What’s that?” Serena asked, watching Leon stir a pot over their camp fire. 

“Curry!” Leon said, smiling brightly. “It’s very popular back home, because you can share it with your pokemon.” 

“Oh, I’ve never eaten that before,” Serena said, eyes bright. 

“That’s great!” Leon laughed and served a plate for her, and a large plate for the stubborn bird staring at them through squinty red eyes. “You and yveltal can share that first time together. It’ll be fun.” 

“I don’t know if yveltal can even eat,” Serena said, holding the plates awkwardly in her hands. “The legends-“ 

“Forget about the legends,” Leon said sternly. “Legends are written by people who survived great catastrophes. They paint a bleak, scary picture, because they survived something bleak and scary. But that doesn’t make what they say true. Legendary pokemon are _pokemon_ , first and foremost.” Leon shook his head. “The legends told about them might or might not be true, but that doesn’t make them any less of a pokemon. And all pokemon deserve to have a home, to know what it’s like, to share a meal with their trainer, to play and be trained and _loved_.” 

“You sound very sure of yourself,” Serena said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“I learned it the hard way,” Leon explained. “When the Darkest Day spread out to cover the entirety of Galar and the pokemon responsible for it, Eternatus, was raging over all the abuse it had endured, I approached him like the monster the legends said he was, instead of the scared, abused pokemon it very clearly was. That mistake nearly cost me my life.” Leon shrugged as he began serving plates for the pokemon he was carrying with him. “My successor saw what I didn’t, saw his pain and his fear, and when she caught him, she realized he was choosing her because of it. That even though it was scared and angry and almost out of control, it was willing to let her help because she reached out to him with kindness. So she committed herself to helping him.” Leon smiled brightly. “She named him Nat and gave him a home. And it was hard, those first few days. I was there with her, because she didn’t know what could happen, and we accidentally upset him and almost started the Darkest Day _again_ , like, four times, because it turns out the Darkest Day is what happens when Nat is so scared and upset that he just wants to make whatever is upsetting and scaring him stop, immediately. But that doesn’t make him evil.” Leon smiled. “No pokemon is evil, no matter what the legends scared people write about them. Sometimes they’re just powerful and people abuse their power for their own means, but that’s not their fault. It’s not fair to blame a pokemon for what their trainer made them do.” 

“Where xerneas gives life, yveltal takes it,” Serena said, after a moment, standing up and walking purposefully towards said pokemon, who was still curled up into a tight ball and peering at them both nervously. “Team Flare captured them both, dragged them from whatever legendary sleep they were in, and tried to use them to create a new world. They wanted xerneas to make them a beautiful world, and yveltal to extinguish all life in this one, using an ancient power.” She sighed. “I studied all the legends, while Calem and I were on our journey, and we got more and more entangled with Team Flare. I dug out everything I could, about these two legendary pokemon. You know what I didn’t find, though? Anywhere?” She bent down to place the plates on the ground, and stepped up closer to yveltal. Leon watched expectantly as she reached out a hand to touch its head. “Anyone, anywhere, at any point, wondering what it must be like, to know you hold the power to extinguish all life, to be _responsible_ for that.” Yveltal made a low, questioning sound, as Serena petted him. “I’m sorry, all that research, and it never occurred to me to ask how you felt about it.” 

Leon knew they were going to be alright, the moment yveltal’s wings spread out enough for it to fold them along its body, its posture finally something more relaxed. 

* * *

“Am I holding you back?” 

Raihan froze, surprised, and then blinked and finished pouring their wine. They were sitting in the balcony of their suite, watching the sunset in the distance. Almost everyone attending the Conference had gone to Shalour City to participate in a small tournament centered around mega evolution. Only Leon and Raihan had stayed back, mostly because Leon was still recovering from a night out in the wild, keeping an eye on Serena and her yveltal and helping them repair their bond. 

“This again?” Raihan laughed, taking a seat next to Leon and offering him a glass. “I told you, I’d rather stay here with you.” 

“No… I mean, thank you,” Leon laughed, taking the offered glass with a small smile. He reached out to clink it with Raihan’s and then took a small sip. Kalosian wine was _really good_ , the sort you drank just for the pleasure of enjoying the taste, not for how drunk you’d get by the time you were through with the bottle. “Lance said that if you hadn’t stayed in Galar, you would be Champion of Johto or Kanto or both.” 

“Lance needs to learn to keep his mouth shut before I kick his teeth in,” Raihan snorted, rolling his eyes. 

“He’s not wrong, though,” Leon replied, frowning. “You’re very strong. I always heard the rumors about you becoming Champion in another region, but I didn’t know that Lance had actually made that offer.” 

“He has, repeatedly, made that offer over the past ten years,” Raihan sighed, leaning back in his chair and then raising a leg to rest his ankle on the rail around their balcony, stretching out as long as he was. “And I have, repeatedly, turned him down each time. I don’t care about being Champion of Johto or Kanto.” He paused, and looked at Leon in the eye. “Or Galar, for that matter.” 

Leon blinked. 

“What.” 

“I’ve never… okay, no, that’s a lie, I wanted to be Champion when I was _ten_ ,” Raihan laughed. “But… then I met you and I met Delilah and figured out what I actually wanted.” 

Leon frowned. 

“Which is…?” 

“Exactly where I am,” Raihan said, grinning with both fangs. “Upholding my inheritance as Gym Leader of Hammerlocke, training the newer generation of Galar’s dragon trainers and, oh yeah, being your boyfriend and forever rival.” 

“And that’s enough?” Leon asked, biting the inside of his lip. 

“For now?” Raihan laughed. “Yes, it is.” 

“But not forever,” Leon added, leaning in. 

Raihan put his glass down on the floor, by the leg of his chair, and spread his arms. After a moment, Leon took the invitation and went to sit on his lap. 

“Forever doesn’t really exist,” Raihan said, wrapping both arms around Leon’s back. “So I don’t really worry about it. If I worried about forever, I could miss important stuff, in the now.” He swallowed hard, and ran his fingers along the length of Leon’s hair. “I almost did, you know? I almost missed you.” 

“You can’t miss me,” Leon promised, shifting enough to press a kiss to the underside of Raihan’s chin. “I’m very loud and obnoxious and terminally in love with you.” He nuzzled against Raihan’s neck. “It sounds terribly conceited to say, but I want to say it anyway. You don’t have to stay in Galar for my sake. If tomorrow you decide you do want to be Champion of Johto or Kanto or both. Or if you just… want to move in to Sinnoh. Or go exploring Hoenn’s seas with Drake. I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, I’ll go with you as long as you want me there.” 

Raihan swallowed hard, fingers brushing Leon’s bangs to the side as he stared down at the intense look Leon was giving him. 

“That’s a pretty big promise you’re making there,” he said, voice soft. 

“It’s really not,” Leon replied, his own voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re my forever, Rai. _I want us to work out_ , always.” 

When Raihan kissed him, Leon dug his fingers into his shoulders and held onto him as hard as he could, because he didn’t want the moment to end. Given the amount of teeth Raihan was kissing him with, Leon reckoned he agreed. 

* * *

“When you said you were fixing a fence, I thought that was a metaphor.” 

Leon looked up at Raihan, three nails caught between his teeth, and gave him a questioning look. Then, once he knew Raihan had seen his expression, he took one of the nails, hammered it into the post and carefully spun the barb wire around it, making sure it was tense along the previous segment, before he dug the rest of the nail in to hold it in place. He repeated that with the other two nails and the corresponding two threads of barb wire, before he stood up. 

“A metaphor for _what_?” Leon asked, and tilted his head up and sideways so Raihan could lean in to kiss him. 

“I don’t know,” Raihan laughed, “something that wasn’t _literally_ fixing a fence.” He paused. “Why are you fixing a fence?” 

Leon shrugged as he put the hammer back in the tool box and grabbed the spools of barb wire. 

“I went out on a run this morning, and ran into Mr. Gold,” he explained, walking resolutely towards the next post. “He was trying to herd the pokemon from the day care back, because apparently one of the posts collapsed and the little trouble makers were out at large all over the route. So I offered to help.” 

“I guess,” Raihan snorted. “I didn’t know you could fix fences.” 

“I grew up in a farm, Rai,” Leon pointed out, one eyebrow arched playfully. 

“Yeah, I still don’t know what that means, Lee,” Raihan laughed, shaking his head. 

“It means winter hols are going to be fun with you down there,” Leon snickered. “But that’s not why I asked you to come.” 

“I mean, that’s great,” Raihan said, hands folded into the depths of his hoodie, “because I sure as hell don’t know how to fix a fence.” 

Leon snorted. 

“Mr. Gold is a breeder, Rai,” he explained, valiantly ignoring Raihan’s grin. “He and his son are, in fact, specialized _dragon type_ breeders. Apparently they’re the source of 80% of the salamances we’ve been drinking to while watching the League back home.” 

Raihan blinked once, twice, and then leaned in to press a kiss to Leon’s cheek. 

“You’re made of magic,” he said, awed. 

“Mhm,” Leon replied, smug. “Why don’t you go chat him up while I finish fixing this fence?” 

Giddily, Raihan went. 

* * *

“It’s a small thing,” Diantha said gracefully, as Leon stared at the box she’d put in his hands with dumbstruck awe, “consider it a token of my appreciation for your services to Kalos.” 

Inside the cushy velvet cover lay two stones: a key stone and a charizardite x. 

“I don’t…” Leon mumbled, carefully running a finger alongside the surface of the largest stone. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Thank you would be a good start,” she replied, eyes dancing in amusement. 

Leon laughed and reverently slid the box closed. 

“Thank you, I don’t…” He licked his lips. “God, I don’t even know how to use these,” he laughed, nervous excitement bubbling in his veins, in a way he hadn’t felt since Professor Magnolia gifted him and Sonia their dynamax bands. “I’m just…” 

“Well, if you’ll forgive me for intruding,” Diantha said, mischievous, “I can think of at least one person who’d be more than happy to let you try it out in battle.” 

She nodded to the other edge of the hotel’s lobby, where a large play room space had been accommodated with a clear view of the gardens. Raihan was there with the triplets, playing pool in one of the tables dotted around, because apparently the triplets had discovered the game during the trip and were campaigning to convince Raihan the break room back in Hammerlocke Gym could really do with a pool table of its own. 

Leon laughed, delighted. 

“Thank you so much,” he said and gave into the impulse to pull Diantha into a hug. 

She let out a small sound of surprise, clearly not having expected the effusive gesture, but then returned the hug all the same. 

“You’re welcome, Leon,” she replied, as he stepped back. “Now, off you go. I too would very much like to see how your first mega evolution goes.” 

Leon crossed the distance in what felt like three steps. 

“Rai!” He called out, “up for a battle?” 

Raihan looked up from the table, cue stick in hand, and grinned at him, bright and beautiful and happy. 

“Always!” 

Leon reckoned he was going to remember that grin – and the subsequent battle – for as long as he lived. 

He found great comfort in that. 


	8. family and home

Raihan towered over a good deal of the dragons in the enclosure. 

Raihan towered over a good deal of people and pokemon, in general, but it was important that he towered easily over most of the dragons in the enclosure, because it put into context the terrifying threat display that their largest kommo-o was putting on, as she stepped between him and the nest she was guarding. She rarely laid eggs herself – the jangmo-o that Leon had been looking after over the past few months were not, in fact, _hers_ , but another kommo-o’s – but she had a habit to lay claim to any nest with eggs in the enclosure and appoint herself as its protector. That was usually a good thing, considering it provided a measure of protection for the eggs until they were spotted and could be safely placed in incubators. But then came the time to actually take the eggs and put them in incubators, and that was… well, it was nerve-wracking. 

“He knows what he’s doing,” Camilla said, leaning on the balcony next to Leon as they both watched the drama unfold. 

No one was allowed anywhere near the enclosure, when Raihan was taking eggs out of the nests. It was too dangerous, too unpredictable. Leon kept his hands on the thick, stone railing and dug his fingers into it, every time another dragon so much as twitched. And that was the thing, too. Raihan was facing their largest kommo-o and her very, _very_ impressive threat displays, her scales shaking with the prelude of a devastating move, but never quite getting there… but he was also turning his back to an entire enclosure full of dragons who might, at any moment, decide they weren’t okay with him being there after all. 

“I know he does,” Leon said, voice low, because he did, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t vibrating in place with sheer nerves. 

“God, you’re hopeless,” Camilla pointed out, rolling her eyes dramatically. “He’s the Gym Leader for a reason.” 

“I’m perfectly capable of rationally understanding both the skill and trust required to do this,” Leon said, in the cardboard tone that parroted Dr. Vale’s helpful insights during their sessions, only way more impersonal, “and still be irrationally worried that something will go wrong.” 

“You’re always thinking about what could go wrong,” Camilla went on, and leaned in to nudge him with an elbow. 

It made Leon hiss a soft laugh between his teeth. 

“I know,” he said, watching Raihan bend down to grab an egg and then back away from the nest without turning his back on the kommo-o, “I’m working on it.” 

“Ugh, fine,” Camila said, and curled an arm around Leon’s, sort of the same way she did to Sebastian when he was busy spluttering in the wake of one of Aria’s sharp remarks. “I’ll buy you lunch, after.” 

“That’d be nice,” Leon said, as Raihan walked back into the enclosure, slouching confidently with each step. 

In the end, Raihan pulled out four eggs from the nest, and Leon didn’t admit having Camilla basically holding his hand through it all helped a lot, because she’d probably laugh at him and call him an idiot. He bought her lunch, because it was only fair, and they invited everyone else to celebrate. 

“Raihan,” Leon said, as they stepped outside the Gym, and then tugged his boyfriend close when he looked up at the sound of his name, pulling him into a mildly desperate kiss. 

Aria wolf-whistled. 

Leon did the sensible thing and, after a small, pleased smile up at Raihan, turned around and stuck out his tongue at the triplets, who were looking varying degrees of unimpressed. But it was okay, because Raihan laughed and curled an arm around Leon, pulling him up against his side, as they started walking towards the busy main street in search of food. 

It was fine. 

* * *

“So!” Leon said, walking into the living room with a tray of fresh tea, “how did you guys figured out Raihan’s gigalith would be a good stud?” 

Gordie choked on spit. 

“You don’t _have_ to phrase it like that, though,” he said, wincing. 

“Why not?” Leon shrugged as he placed the contents of the tray on the low table. “What would you call it?” 

“Well, you know,” Gordie snorted, reaching out to grab his cup with a little shrug. “The polite wording is to say Han’s gigalith has a few girlfriends over in Circhester and that’s why he spends winters up there with me.” 

Leon looked vaguely unimpressed. 

“You want to breed stonjourners that know curse and you’ve socialized Raihan’s gigalith with as many compatible stonjourners you could find,” he said eyebrows arched, “that’s the definition of studding. I don’t know why you’re so bothered by it.” 

“Well, _you know_ ,” Gordie insisted, awkwardly, “it sounds… weird.” 

“It’s just how breeding works,” Leon replied, leaning back against the couch’s backrest, cup in hand. “You want to breed in a specific trait, you find yourself a stud with it.” 

Gordie looked at him for a long moment, as if strategizing the best way to tackle that statement, and then sighed. 

“I didn’t know you were into breeding as well as pokemon battles,” he said, mostly into his tea. 

Leon laughed. 

“I’m not!” He said, grinning wryly. “But my parents own a wooloo farm.” When Gordie merely stared at him, clearly not sure what to make of that statement, Leon shrugged. “The quality of their wool, which is why my dad breeds them in the first place, is determined primarily by genetics, so my dad is very meticulous about the variety of studs he uses to keep population stable in the flock and also maintain quality of the product. If you’re sloppy about it you end up with bad wool that no one will buy and which might even be harmful to harvest off them, as in, you _hurt_ them when you shear them. Plus, they naturally reproduce way faster than they die, so if you leave them to their own devices they will form gigantic flocks that can and will strip bare an entire forest in one day.” Leon nodded enthusiastically in the face of Gordie’s dubious look. “You should ask Milo about wooloo herds out of control: the year he inherited Turffield, some farm in the outskirts went bankrupt and instead of, you know, _selling_ the flock, the owner instead just… released it into the wild, all seven hundred of them. They then proceeded to strip bare a quarter of a hectare and almost trampled the Giant in the grass field.” Leon sighed. “Milo tells the story better than I do, but you should _probably_ buy him a beer before you ask him about it.” 

“I didn’t know you were friends with Milo,” Gordie said, frowning slightly and giving Leon a look like he was sizing him up. 

“Milo’s a friendly guy! I think he’s friends with everyone in the League, honestly,” Leon laughed, then leaned in, conspiratorially, “even Bede, if you’ll believe it. But I guess there’s nothing quite like staring down a herd of angry wooloo together, to kickstart a friendship.” 

Gordie snorted. 

“I don’t know, Bede has gotten friendlier,” he said, somewhat reluctantly, “or he’s way more scared of Chairman Mia than he ever was of you. Hasn’t picked a fight with anyone in months, either way, and he’s even offered to host next quarter’s Gym Leader lunch.” 

“I mean, that’s good, right?” Leon turned his cup in his hands. “Anyway, you still haven’t told me how you and Raihan ended up with this agreement.” 

“Well, he’s always been a mentor of sorts to me,” Gordie admitted, staring at the depths of his cup. “Even before I inherited, he’s been a good friend and a great source of advice. And Circhester’s never had proper conservation efforts, the way Hammerlocke does, mostly because… we’re all about historical preservation, not so much wild life population control. But I did pick up a few things from him, on how to administer the reserved wild areas around town, and along the bay, and we noticed the population of a few species starting to go down sharply. Han suggested maybe focused breeding programs could help, so I tried that, and for the most part they have. It’s just... Stonjourners are pickier than anything else I’ve ever worked with, and at the point we tried his gigalith, we were really just throwing things at the wall and seeing if it stuck. And it did, so now I look after it during winter.” 

Leon grinned teasingly. 

“As a stud?” 

Gordie gave him a sharp stare, but didn’t get to answer, because Raihan chose that moment to open the glass door to the yard and slip inside, shivering and rubbing his hands. Leon had cleared out the snow when he’d first woken up, but it was still pretty cold outside and they were expecting more snowfall in a few hours. 

“What are you guys up to?” He asked, coming around to sit next to Leon, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and reaching out for the third, still hot cup of tea in the tray, waiting for him. “Talking about anything fun?” 

Gordie and Leon shared a look, and then deadpanned and snickered, respectively, as they chorused: 

“Studs, mostly.” 

Raihan blinked. 

“Well, if you’re going to get piercings, you should do it in Spikemouth,” he said, shrugging slightly, “they know their stuff.” 

When Raihan asked why Gordie and him burst out laughing, Leon decided it was best not to explain. 

* * *

The train ride was nice. 

Raihan spent most of it asleep, head tucked into Leon’s shoulder, burrowed deep into his jacket, while Leon played with their phones and entertained himself watching the landscape passing by. He kept expecting to feel anxious about this, considering how well-versed he was in getting anxious about absolutely everything, but he found he wasn’t. He was excited to be home, to visit his parents and hang out with Sonia and his brother, and share stories with his Nan. He wanted to show Raihan around Postwick and all the places he’d grown up in. And maybe it was because he’d spent the last few months unpacking his life _after_ Postwick, with his therapist, but he found himself feeling very nostalgic about the life he’d led _before_ Rose and the League. He’d been happy, in Postwick, and while his last stay hadn’t been exactly euphoric, he felt better prepared to enjoy himself this time around. 

And it meant the world to him, that Raihan wanted to come along. 

“So,” Raihan said, as they stepped out of the station, “this is Postwick, huh?” 

Leon snorted. 

“Nope,” he said, reaching out to grab Raihan’s hand in his own and throwing his duffel bag over his shoulder with the other, “this is Wedgehurst.” 

“Oh,” Raihan replied, frowning, “where’s Postwick, then?” 

Leon shrugged. 

“Mile and a quarter past the middle of nowhere,” he explained, tugging Raihan along towards the small dirt road that led into route 1. “Did you know Rose renumbered the routes when they made this one? And this is route 1, of course, because it’s the route to my home.” 

“To your home town, you mean,” Raihan pointed out, dutifully walking alongside Leon. 

“No, it actually goes straight into my parent’s house, and then it turns into another dirt road and leads into Postwick proper.” Leon paused. “Which I realize makes it sound big, but really, Postwick is only seven farms… well, six farms and whatever Gloria’s mum is doing with her land this year, anyway.” 

“Huh,” Raihan hummed, and then tugged at Leon’s hand, “so am I dick if I ask if there’s gonna be reception down here?” 

“Yes,” Leon deadpanned, giving Raihan a side-eyed look. 

Raihan flushed. 

“I’m-“ 

“Kidding,” Leon laughed, tugging at his hand. “I actually remember when they put the tower in Mr. Frank’s land, so it’s not an unfounded question to ask.” 

They walked in silence for perhaps a quarter of a mile, pulling their luggage along, down the relatively flat and straight stretch of road. 

“So what did you do?” Raihan asked, after he apparently got tired of staring at the vast nothingness around them. “When you lived here?” 

“Honestly?” Leon shrugged. “Whatever Sonia wanted.” 

“Really?” Raihan looked dubious. “You don’t strike me as someone who follows others around.” 

“Really,” Leon laughed. “We were the only kids for miles around, and to be fair, I really wasn’t… very confident, growing up. Sonia always had all these ideas and games to play, and I mostly trailed after her because I didn’t have any good objections to offer. We got in stupid amounts of trouble, too, but it was fun. She looked after me a lot.” Leon paused. “I mean, she had to, of course, it wasn’t like she could replace me. Though, to be fair, she did try.” Leon shrugged in the face of Raihan’s stare. “You gotta give it to her, she argued her case pretty hard, but in the end she couldn’t convince my mom that trading me in for three growlithe and a dubwool at Tuesday’s market was a bargain.” 

“I’m having a hard time picturing Miss Clever Clogs trying to sell you in a market stall,” Raihan admitted, one eyebrow arched as he tugged on Leon’s hand playfully. 

“Don’t be silly, Rai,” Leon replied, “Tuesday’s market is the cattle auctions market, there’s no stalls. She threw me into the arena along the rest of the wooloo in the lot and insisted I was a shiny variant.” Leon paused and then snickered. “My mom thought it was actually kind of funny, but my dad was _furious_. We ended up doing feeding rounds for a month. I mean, we were _supposed_ to do it for a month, but we got into a food fight and accidentally triggered a stampede that flattened Mrs. York’s barn on maybe the third day, so dad dropped it after that. Actually, I don’t think we ever did a full term of whatever punishment we got for our antics. Something always came up and it just… got dropped.” 

Raihan gave a sharper, stronger tug on Leon’s hand, and he would have lost his step if Raihan wasn’t there to catch him and pull him into a kiss. 

“What’s that for?” Leon asked, blinking up at him. 

Raihan smiled, that small, soft smile of his that was really just barely a twitch of lips and made Leon melt every time he aimed it at him. 

“I love you,” Raihan said, and leaned in to press a kiss to Leon’s cheek. “I appreciate that you’re willing to share stories like that.” 

“Oh, Rai,” Leon sighed, stretching on the tip of his toes to chase after Raihan’s face so he could kiss him again. “Rai, I love you but this is dictated by cold, calculated strategy.” Leon laughed at the look on Raihan’s face. “My mother has been waiting _months_ to properly meet you. Months during which she’s prepared extensively. I expect no less than seven, very thick photo albums to be waiting for you the moment we get there, all painstakingly organized from least to most embarrassing childhood stories. And that’s not even counting on my dad, who’s going to love you the moment he gets to know you, but who is probably going to play hard to get because I get all my stubborn pride from that side of the family. And there’s my Nan, who will invariably try to creep the hell out of you, because she thinks it’s funny.” Leon grinned. “I’m just trying to set the precedent that for the next two weeks, whatever nonsense you’re told, you can always come back to me and I’ll tell you what actually happened, even if it sounds made up.” Leon swallowed hard. “My family loves me, always had, and I’ve never once doubted that. None of the times my best friend nearly got me killed as kid were on purpose. I had a fairly happy childhood, all things considered, but you gotta be prepared for the fact the person I am today has very little to do with the perpetual crybaby that felt doomed to failure and was always scared to point out he wasn’t who everyone thought he was, that I was before I became Champion. I figured myself out eventually, but… I just want you to be aware the road there was sinuous and not straightforward at all, I guess.” 

Raihan was silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating his answer. Leon liked that he did that, thinking before he spoke, primarily because it was a skill Leon was definitely lacking sometimes, and it was nice one of them had it. 

“I mean, it’s on brand,” Raihan said after a moment, grinning teasingly as he flashed a hint of fang, “you’re not known for navigating roads very well, baby.” 

Leon grinned. 

“You know, Dr. Vale and I have talked _extensively_ about what it means to use humor as a way to deflect an emotionally charged conversation,” he explained, even as he dropped the duffel bag so he could wrap his arms around Raihan’s shoulders. “He’s got a lot to say about that!” 

“I’m sure he does,” Raihan agreed, eyes glinting as he leaned in to kiss him, “but fortunately for all involved, I’m not dating Dr. Vale.” 

“I mean,” Leon replied, smiling against Raihan’s mouth, “if you dumped me for my therapist, I don’t think I’d ever recover.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Raihan teased, tilting his head so he could press a kiss to the underside of Leon’s jaw, “I wouldn’t have to _dump_ you first, now would—” 

Leon stepped back sharply, spluttering. 

“You’d _cheat_ on me?” 

He’d meant to voice disbelief but it came out more like a strangled, awkward heartbreak and Raihan’s smile fell off accordingly. 

“Of course not!” He said, tugging Leon close, “it was a joke! Bad joke! I’m sorry, Lee, please don’t cry.” 

“I’m not crying,” Leon hissed into Raihan’s jacket, voice slightly muffled. “If you cheated on me I would murder you first and _then_ I’d cry.” 

There was a moment of silence, before Raihan ran his fingers through Leon’s hair. 

“That might be the first time I’ve ever heard you threaten violence on another human being,” Raihan said, but he didn’t sound horrified, which Leon supposed was a good thing. Possibly. “You don’t even threaten violence on paparazzi and they’re way more intrusive with you than anyone else in the region.” 

“I’m sorry,” Leon muttered, “it was the heat of the moment.” 

“Are you kidding?” Raihan laughed and stepped back just enough so he could stare at Leon in the eye. “I’m flattered.” He tilted Leon’s face up, thumb brushing against his lips. “You love me. Violently. Murderously, in fact!” Raihan laughed and pulled Leon close, even as Leon made to shove him away. “Even though my jokes have a tendency to stray into meanspirited. That’s sweet.” 

“I just—” Leon began, and then sighed when Raihan leaned in to kiss him properly. 

“Want us to work out,” Raihan finished for him, still holding his face in his hands. “I know, Lee. I want us to work out too. I’m really happy I get to meet your family, and I promise, I’ll do my best to make them like me, so—” 

“I’m not worried about that,” Leon admitted, chewing at the inside of his lower lip. “My family is going to love you. _Of course_ they’re going to love you. You’re handsome and smart and talented and really chill about my occasional swerves into ghost town creepiness. I know my family is going to love you, I just…” 

“I love you, Lee, I really do, I can’t wait to meet your family,” Raihan said, expression kind… which then dissolved into a shudder. “But I also can’t wait to get out of the cold and we’ve still got like half a mile to go. Why is it so cold, Lee? It’s barely noon.” 

“It’s winter,” Leon said, blinking up at him. 

“No, this is my-socks-are-frozen-inside-my-shoes cold,” Raihan replied. “ _Circhester_ doesn’t get this cold!” 

“Circhester is up against a mountain, the wind doesn’t get a chance to turn into a proper blizzard and all the cold ends up in the bay anyway,” Leon snorted, eyebrows arched. “Here it’s just plains all around, for miles, so the gales get proper frigid before they hit you.” He arched both eyebrows. “I told you to pack for cold.” 

“You told your mom we were coming in today, didn’t you?” Raihan asked, as he started to walk resolutely down the road, one hand firmly clasping Leon’s, the other dragging along his suitcase. “That means there’s something nice and warm waiting for us when we get there, right?” 

“It’s my mum and she’s well aware of your sweet tooth, so,” Leon said, shrugging. “Yeah, hot cocoa if I have to guess. You like hot cocoa, right?” 

“Leon, if your mother opens the door and offers me hot cocoa, I might have to kiss her,” Raihan said, looking gravely down at him. “You’ve been warned.” 

“I mean, go ahead,” Leon replied, snickering as Raihan picked up pace, abusing his longer stride. “It’s not me you gotta worry about, though, my dad might want to have a few words.” 

* * *

There was hot cocoa waiting for them, when they arrived. 

There was also lunch and photo albums, but really, Leon knew it was going to be alright the moment the first thing out of Raihan’s mouth was to point out Leon’s mum was the most amazing creature in the world, because she offered them some hot cocoa to chase away the chill from the walk. Raihan handled the subsequent meal and conversation with that same graceful skill he did basically everything, as far as Leon was concerned, so Leon was quite happy to sit and bask and beam in support as the conversation gained momentum. His dad asked a lot of questions, about what it meant, for Raihan to be a Gym Leader, and where he came from and what were his plans for the future, and just when Leon was starting to contemplate kicking his dad under the table to derail the conversation – even though Raihan was taking the impromptu interrogation in stride and with the same chipper attitude he did most things – Leon heard the front door open. He excused himself from the table as his mum waved him off, pausing to squeeze one of Raihan’s shoulders and give him a smile, just as his dad asked what exactly Raihan meant by _breeding dragons_. 

“Hello, Nan,” Leon said, walking into the foyer and watching his Nan methodically remove the layers she wore, to be able to brave the cold outside. 

As per usual, there was a small army of goletts fading in and out of view all around her, cheerfully offering to take things off her hands: the cloak and the jacket and her hat, which they floated away to hang in place on the hooks behind the door. Her golurk towered silently in the corner, holding onto a picnic basket. 

“Leon,” she said, lips twitching just barely into the tiniest bit of a smirk, stretching one hand in his direction, “kiss me, child, it’s been some time now.” 

Leon grinned and held her hand in his, leaning over to brush his lips against her knuckles, basking in the way it made her chuckle. Then he stepped closer and pulled her gently – gently, ever so gently, her knee was not what it used to be, and he knew that – into his arms, leaning in to press his lips to the crown of her head and then to her cheek. He relaxed a whole lot – he didn’t even realize he needed relaxing – when she patted his back. 

“I’ve got something for you,” Leon said, voice low and gleeful. 

“You don’t say,” his Nan said, tapping his chest to get him to step back. “Did you also bring your young man home?” 

Leon watched her golurk finally move away, carrying the basket to the kitchen, vanishing as it went. He also heard Raihan squeak in surprise, probably startled to see said basket casually floating into a counter, seemingly on its own, and snickered. 

“Yep,” Leon said, beaming proudly. “We just finished lunch.” 

“Mmm, I’ll say hello later,” she replied, looking up at him with eyes that gleamed just the tiniest bit, “got some echoes to clear out first.” 

Leon nodded, understanding. Every so often, he knew, she had a habit to go have lunch at the local cemetery. And while it wasn’t exactly the same as a formal channeling session, it still left behind… _stuff_. 

Over the past few months, as he’d worked on both reconnecting with his old team and figuring out where he stood, in regard to everything he’d discarded along the years, for the sake of being Champion, Leon had written his grandmother a good deal of letters. He had a feeling her stubborn refusal to get a cellphone so he could just call her to talk about it, or at least write an email instead, was on purpose. There was a deliberateness in writing, pen in hand, feeling the scratch of it against paper, that he thought was almost trying to tell him something, though he wasn’t quite sure what. Most of the lessons his Nan had taught him were like that: obtuse and unclear and only ever really fully understood in hindsight. They were not the kind of lessons children were often taught, but Leon often found himself falling back into them, almost on reflex. 

And for all he talked and talked and _talked_ about his life and all he’d learned and gone through, with Dr. Vale, he still hadn’t brought himself to speak of his Nan. 

His Nan _got_ him, in a way no one else ever had. She knew what he saw and what he felt and most importantly, she knew _why_. She taught him how to be himself, at all times, how to not get lost in the currents and the voices and all the things he saw that no one else could. Most of Leon’s favorite memories of his time in Postwick revolved around sitting on the floor at his Nan’s feet and listening to her stories. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly miserable and deeply missing home, Leon had felt becoming Champion was a mistake. That he should have stayed home and finished his training and take on the wandering medium job, just like she had done in her youth. He wondered, when he woke up with a sharp jolt at five in the morning, on the dot, and he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and ignoring Raihan’s roaring snores pressed into the crown of his head… he wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake. 

He wondered, sometimes, with that precise talent he had for getting himself upset and caught in anxious self-deprecation, if Raihan would even love him, if he’d chosen that road instead. If the person he could have become, would have been someone Raihan would love. He didn’t know how to phrase that question in a way that didn’t sound wrong, and he didn’t think it was fair to ask Raihan about it, either. 

It was dumb. 

_He_ was dumb. 

He followed his Nan into her room, instead, mindful of the little crowd of goletts cheerfully orbiting her, as always, and smiled as he watched a few of them crawl up onto her bed. 

“Well,” his Nan said, as she sat on her favorite chair by the window, hands folded into her lap. “Let’s see.” 

Leon grinned. 

“This never happened, of course,” he said, unhooking dragapult’s ultraball from his belt and throwing it out gently into the center of the room. 

“Of course not,” his Nan said, eyebrows arched tauntingly as they watched dragapult reshape himself out of the light, holding another ultraball in his hands. “Contraband is illegal.” 

“Very illegal,” Leon agreed, grinning as he took the ultraball and felt dragapult chirp happily as he curled up around him, resting his head atop Leon’s. “As former Champion and Chairman of the League, I am Very Against Illegal Things.” 

As soon as the ultraball bounced off the carpet, it released the pokemon inside. 

“This is an honest household,” his Nan said, with that lift in her tone that she only ever used when she was trying to make Leon laugh, “we do not tolerate illegal things at all.” 

But when she offered her hands, the shuppet floating curiously in the center of the room let out a soft, happy noise and immediately went to settle into her lap. 

“You’d think it’d have been harder than that,” Leon said, moving to sit on the floor at her feet, almost out of habit, as he watched them bond successfully. “But it really wasn’t.” 

“I told you it’d work,” she replied with a snort, “for all they hem and haw about the sanctity of the mainland Pokedex, it’s not exactly rocket science to sidestep all that. The only people who get caught are the people who flaunt the fact they didn’t get caught. Which reminds me, what did your oh so upstanding gentleman of a boyfriend think about this?” 

“Nothing at all,” Leon snorted, and looked away when she drummed her fingers atop his head before she started playing with his hair, “half of his job is to deal with people breaking those laws. He’d be obligated to report me for it and it’d be a scandal and a mess and I really don’t want to break up with my boyfriend because I broke the law, Nan, even if it is a supremely stupid law.” 

“Nothing brings a couple together quite like a bit of rule breaking camaraderie,” she replied, clearly amused. “I doubt he’d really mind.” 

Leon winced. 

“He’s got… _feelings_ about conservation of native species,” he said, and then gave up pretenses and hooked his chin on her knee, so she could run her fingers down the length of his hair better. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to be furious when he finds out.” 

“And yet,” she said, twirling a finger into his hair and then tugging sharply at it, hard enough it hurt, just a bit, “you did it anyway.” 

“Well,” Leon said, looking away, “yes.” 

Her golurk chose that moment to pass through the door and went to sit by the bed, to play with the goletts. Leon chuckled as the shuppet let out a surprised chirp and tried to hide itself into his Nan’s hair. 

“That’s not the only thing you brought home that you probably shouldn’t have though, wasn’t it?” 

Leon hummed at the question, and then dug a hand into the pockets of his jacket to pull out the crystal shard he’d found himself playing with and keeping at hand ever since he found it. He’d done some testing, with his pokemon, about its possible use as a move enhancer, but it hadn’t really done much. It was just a chunk of haunted rock that, after a few weeks playing with it, he’d finally settled on calling the feeling it evoked as melancholy. 

It was strong, but it wasn’t _active_. 

At least, he didn’t think so. 

“What do you think it is?” Leon asked, watching intently as his Nan rolled the crystal between her fingers, feeling out the sharp edges, physical and otherwise. 

“A broken promise,” his Nan said, rubbing her thumb against it, frowning. “Or a forgotten oath.” 

“It doesn’t feel angry, though,” Leon mused, blinking, “I wouldn’t have taken it with me if it did.” 

“Heartbreak doesn’t always foster anger,” she replied, as she pressed the crystal back into his hand, “sometimes it’s just… sad.” 

“…it’s not great that I’m attached to it, is it?” Leon guessed, wincing. 

“You’re probably going to fulfill that promise or oath, at some point, so… probably not,” she said, sounding vaguely amused. “But it doesn’t feel malevolent, so it’ll probably be an inconvenience more than anything.” She paused, significantly. “Probably.” 

It made Leon laugh. 

“Sometimes,” he admitted, voice low and eyes half-lidded, as he basked in the feeling of her long, thin fingers playing with his hair, “I wish I was the sort of person who could be like you. It… it makes me sad, because Hop can’t and I… don’t want to. I could, but I won’t. It feels selfish and I don’t know how to not feel that way.” 

“It’s alright, child,” she replied, “the greatest tragedy of our lives is that we will never be anything other than ourselves. You just have to learn to live with it.” She tugged at his hair, playful. “But none of that, do tell me about your young man. Your mother will not stop fretting about it.” 

In a hushed, painfully excited whisper, Leon did. 

* * *

By the time Leon left his Nan to take her afternoon nap in her room, it was dark outside and Raihan was no longer in the kitchen where he’d left him. 

“He decided to tag along, when your father said he was going to herd the flock back into their pen for the night.” 

Leon gave his mum a skeptical look. 

“You did tell dad—” 

“Yes,” his mum said, with a bit of a snort. “They’re just going to talk, Leon. It’s okay.” 

“Because I really like my boyfriend,” Leon replied, moving in to help clear the dishes from lunch while she started up on dinner. “He is a really good boyfriend and I love him a lot.” 

“He seems very sweet,” his mum offered as an olive branch, grinning slightly. “His eyes soften every time he looks at you.” 

Leon focused on scrubbing and refused to acknowledge the way his face flushed at that, all the way to the tip of his ears. 

“So,” she said, rather than call him out of it, “how was Kalos?” 

They worked on dinner together, after that, chatting easily. Leon talked about the dragon conference and all the people he’d met while he washed the rice and helped prepare ingredients. And he was struck by how nice it was, to bask in the sound of his mum’s laughter whenever he offered a good pun, and listen to her talk about all the new recipes she’d started working on. It was… it was very different, from the last time he’d visited, and he felt weirdly uncomfortable by how comfortable he was. That it was nicer to be just passing through his parent’s home, rather than thinking he’d be staying for good. He didn’t know how to put it to words that made sense, so he kept it to himself and promised to work it out later, when he wasn’t missing out on a good time just because his brain insisted on being mean. 

“Wooloo are the most terrifying pokemon in the world,” Raihan announced, about an hour later, as he walked into the kitchen with a haunted look plastered all over his face. “Just. _Eyes_.” 

“Oooh,” Leon said, grinning as he stood up and went to pull his boyfriend into a hug, “you didn’t know their eyes glow in the dark, huh.” 

“Eyes, Lee,” Raihan muttered, burying his face into the crook of Leon’s neck, clinging fiercely. “Eyes _everywhere_. A sea of eyes, bleating softly into the darkness.” 

Leon patted Raihan’s back soothingly and nudged him towards a chair so he could serve him another cup of hot cocoa – his hands were _freezing_ cold – to jolt him back into reality. 

“If it’s any consolation, they’re actually really cute,” Leon said, standing by Raihan’s side as he watched him blow on the mug, clutching it like a treasure. “You just… need sunlight to see the cute.” 

“There were like a _thousand_ wooloo out there,” Raihan replied, looking up at Leon somewhat dubiously. 

“ _Five_ thousand, in fact!” Leon’s dad chirped out, looking very pleased with himself. “We own the largest and healthiest flock in the plains.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen five thousand pokemon in my entire _life_ ,” Raihan said, staring at Leon’s dad with the sort of horrified awe that most people stared at dracovish when they saw them for the first time. “Never mind all at once.” 

“Well, you did tonight, son,” Leon’s dad said, grinning proudly, “sort of. Leon’s right, though, you can’t really appreciate how sweet and cute they are, without some daylight.” 

Raihan whimpered into his mug. 

* * *

The next morning, at five, on the dot, Leon woke up. 

The room was dark and the wind was howling outside, rattling the glass planes on the window in a way made him realize no one had changed those in forever, probably because no one had slept in his bed, in his room, in forever. Raihan was curled up around him, arms and legs tangled up around his, with his back against the wall. Leon insisted he slept there, even though they usually shared opposite sides of the bed, back home, because Raihan refused to complain about it, but he was certainly suffering the cold. 

They weren’t cold right then, though, Leon noted, shifting enough to watch Raihan’s sleeping face, smushed against his shoulder as he snored away without a care in the world. He grinned to himself, completely inured to the snoring by now, and reached out to pull the covers up to Raihan’s ears, which caused him to curl up a bit closer, somehow. 

Minutes stretched out, longer and longer, but he found he didn’t want to get out of bed. On weekends, when he stayed in until Raihan woke up, he always had to ignore the itch to go downstairs and get started on breakfast. Maybe it was because the bed was so much smaller – Raihan had to fold his legs up to fit, he was too tall – or maybe it was the fact breakfast would get made even if he didn’t help. Maybe it was the sound of snow falling outside, and the pale light, barely inching its way through the curtains. Maybe it was the fact Raihan snored and clung and Leon was keenly aware there was nothing really comfortable, about how cramped they were in the bed, and yet he’d never felt so relaxed or slept so soundly. 

It was almost eight, by the time Raihan woke up, pressing a yawn against Leon’s throat and blinking up sleepily up at him. 

“Hi,” he said, voice low and slurred. 

“I love you,” Leon replied, and realized he’d been meaning to tell him that, since he woke up. “Good morning,” he added, leaning in to press his lips against Raihan’s forehead. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Mhm,” Raihan hummed, as he curled a leg around Leon’s, tucking him further against him, as if he was trying to fold Leon into himself. “Your bed’s way too comfortable for how small it is.” 

“I blame the company,” Leon said, grinning as he reached a hand to brush Raihan’s hair off his face. “Makes any bed the best bed, really.” 

“New rule,” Raihan said, stretching just enough to press his lips against the corner of Leon’s jaw. “You don’t get to sweet talk me until I’ve got at least one shot of caffeine in me. It’s unfair otherwise.” 

“Dunno I like that rule,” Leon said, eyebrows arched as he thumbed Raihan’s mouth. “Maybe I like you defenseless and at my mercy.” 

“Lies,” Raihan snorted, shifting about until he was looming on hands and knees above Leon, eyes half-lidded, “you like me precisely because I put up a hell of a fight every time.” 

Before Leon could offer a suitable reply, Raihan’s stomach made itself known. They both stared at it for a moment before they broke down laughing, Raihan letting himself fall back down onto Leon, all legs and arms and mirth. 

“C’mon,” Leon said, grinning into Raihan’s hair, “let’s go get you that coffee.” 

They almost made it downstairs without incident, except for the bit Raihan banged his head on the stairs. Leon fussed even though Raihan insisted he didn’t even hit himself that hard, but relented when breakfast seemed to make everything better. 

* * *

“That’s not snow,” Raihan pointed out, huddling deep inside his coat – the coat he was wearing on top of the hoodie he was wearing on top of a sweater he was wearing on top of a turtleneck – as he stared at a suspiciously fluffy-looking hillside. 

“Nope,” Leon replied, waking up to stand next to him by the fence. “Those are wooloo.” 

They’d left their pokemon back in the house, loitering around the fireplace in the living room. Leon’s mum insisted, considering how cold it was out and the fact they were only going out for a walk, to explore the fields. He thought it was mostly because she wanted to coo at the baby dragons, but they were grown up enough now to behave themselves, so he wasn’t really worried. 

“They’re so many, though,” Raihan insisted, blinking at the distance. “How do you even tell them apart?” 

“Honestly, I’m not going to pretend I can,” Leon laughed, folding his arms on the fence, and leaning his weight on it. “But my dad knows them all by name, nickname and temperament. They’re not that much work, in winter. They just like grazing about, and all you really gotta do is check their water hasn’t frozen up and that they can go back to their pens at night. The real hard work starts in shearing season, and that’s when they stop being cute.” 

“After last night, I’m not sure I want to know,” Raihan said, giving Leon a dubious side-look. 

“Let’s just say that shearing doesn’t hurt them, but most of them don’t actively enjoy it.” 

They walked along the fence, away from Postwick and into the fields proper, hand in hand. The wind was freezing, but Raihan was better dressed for it this time, and it didn’t seem to take away from the landscape. Leon remembered, all of a sudden, Piers’ comments about how Postwick was the sort of place that seemed to have been handcrafted for a movie set. Unlike Piers, however, Raihan kept pointing out how beautiful the fields looked and he was game to explore them, even if they were just vast, flat stretches of nothing but snow, the occasional tree, and a whole lot of wooloo. 

“What’s that?” Raihan asked, sometime around noon, pointing at a relatively large structure that looked nothing like the three-wall shelters scattered around the sleeping pens that he’d helped Leon’s dad herd the flock into the night before. 

“Oh,” Leon said, blinking, “that’s the nursery.” It was really more a big, slanted roof held up on sturdy support beams, without any walls. It probably caught Raihan’s attention because the dubwool and the arcanine were loitering around it. “Do you wanna see it?” 

“Is that a good idea?” Raihan replied, a little dubious. 

Leon laughed. 

“Yeah,” he said, tugging on Raihan’s hand, “they’re not dragons, Rai. They don’t mind you messing around their nests. Half the eggs there are not even theirs, actually.” 

“What do you mean half the eggs are not even theirs?” Raihan asked, even as he followed along, easily matching Leon’s stride as he switched directions, heading straight for the nursery. 

“Well, dubwool are _really good_ at raising eggs,” Leon explained, as he came to a stop near a post. “Here, make sure to step here and lean most of your weight on the post when you vault, that way the fence won’t tumble over,” he added, as he showed Raihan how to vault over and into the pen. 

“Okay,” Raihan said, and imitated the movement perfectly because he was nimbler than he looked. 

“Dubwool don’t ask questions, for the most part, about their nests and what’s in them,” Leon went on, reaching out to hold Raihan’s hand again as they started walking leisurely. “So a lot of wild pokemon that nest in winter have learned to bring their eggs and leave them in their nest, because they’ll be safer there. And then in spring, during hatching season, there’s a lot of rookidee, yamper, hoothoot, skwovet, purloin and the even occasional chewtle... but those are pretty rare now, considering they’ve learned Professor Magnolia will take care of their eggs if they leave them by the lake house, so it’s pretty rare that one of them will come all the way here.” 

“That’s really cool,” Raihan said, “I’d never heard of pokemon forming symbiotic relationships for nesting before. What happens when they hatch?” 

“My dad doesn’t like baby wooloo grazing for the first month, after they hatch. He has this whole thing about the special food he feeds while they’re little because that first month apparently determines how big and healthy they’re going to be when they finish growing up, so they’re pretty pampered. And there’s nothing in that food that’s bad for other species, so he just feeds them all together and after the first month, when he moves the wooloo to their own pen so they can start grazing and get used to the daily routine, he releases the baby pokemon back into the wild.” Leon stopped, just as they reached another fence isolating the nursery from the sleeping pens, and turned, pointing in the general direction of Postwick and the thick woods behind it. “Most of them stick around in the Weald while they’re growing up, and then spread out to route 1 and 2. In summer, when I was little, I liked to sit on the stone fence at night and watch them sneak by, rushing to the routes and away from the Weald, ‘cause it reminded me of a story that my Nan told me, about a great parade of ghost pokemon walking down the streets of some town in Kanto on the night of the full moon.” 

Raihan tugged on his hand, pulling him close, and then leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Maybe next time we sneak out of Galar, we could go to Kanto and visit that town,” he said, pressing the words right under Leon’s ear. 

Leon stared up at him, startled. 

“You’d go with me into a haunted town?” 

Raihan smiled. 

“If it made you happy,” he replied, “of course I would, Lee.” He grinned. “Mind, you’re gonna have to promise to not let anything eat me, considering I can’t see _shit_ , but other than that? Why not? You have fun with it.” 

Leon let go of Raihan’s hand so he could reach out and hold his face properly in place, and then proceeded to kiss him until his lungs burned for air. 

“It’s really unfair, you know,” Leon whispered, as they stood there, foreheads pressed together, staring at each other. “That you can just _say_ things like that. And mean them too.” 

Raihan tugged him into his arms, wrapping them around Leon’s back as he rested his chin atop his head. 

“It’s like I told your dad, last night,” he said, grin in his voice. “He asked me what would happen, if you suddenly decided you wanted to move back here and take over the farm. And I told him the truth, that if that’s what you wanted and what would make you happy? Hell yeah, I’ll figure how to raise wooloo. I’ve been breeding and rearing dragons for over a decade now, hopefully some of the skills translate.” 

Leon pulled away from the hold so he could stare up at him. 

“But the Gym—” 

“Look, I told you in Kalos, Lee, and I meant it,” Raihan said, shrugging. Then he took a deep breath. “Forever doesn’t exist. Right now? The way things are? I love it, it’s like a dream.” He reached a hand to brush Leon’s hair off his face and tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “But I’m not Opal, I’m not going to be Gym Leader until I’m eighty, you know? One day, someone will inherit from me, and I’ll be done with the League. And until that happens, I’m going to work hard and make sure whatever legacy I leave behind is… you know, a good one. But sooner or later things are going to change, and when I’m figuring out what life after the League is going to look like, the only thing I care about making sure stays the same is _us_.” He swallowed hard and offered a little shaky smile. “So yeah, if whenever that happens my options are to move mile and a quarter past middle of nowhere and look after a frankly obscene number of wooloo to be with you, or figure out life without you? Choice is pretty clear to me.” 

It took them a while, to get to the nursery after that, even though it was barely a few yards away. 

* * *

“Imagine if my dragons were anywhere near that careful,” Raihan said, as they watched the dubwool carefully move around the nesting area, hooves delicately stepping in the spaces between eggs and noses carefully feeling each egg for the right temperature. 

Whenever they found an egg that was too cold or too warm, they carefully rolled it over to a different spot. There were nearly two hundred eggs in the nursery, and about thirty dubwool in total, keeping an eye on them. It was a bit of a mesmerizing sight. 

“You’d be out of a job,” Leon agreed, humming in the back of his throat. “Well, part of your job.” 

“I mean, yes,” Raihan laughed, one arm wrapped around Leon’s shoulders, tucking him easily against his side. “On the one hand, no baby dragons to break the internet with and force it to do my dark bidding. On the other hand, healthy dragon populations.” 

“I know what you mean,” Leon sighed, tilting his head to rest it against Raihan’s shoulder. “But hey, Mr. Gold said he’d come in the summer, right? Maybe he can help.” 

“Sure, so long as I manage to either bully the League into giving him an exception to the _stupid_ no native species ban, or I can find a decent loophole for him and his stable of salamances.” Raihan sighed loudly. “He still needs to keep up with his breeding schedule and he’s doing me a favor, after all.” 

“You think the no native species ban is stupid?” Leon asked, head tilted to the side. 

“Well, it’s stupid that it was instituted without any real scientific basis for it,” Raihan pointed out and then grinned as he watched a dubwool carefully plop itself down its designated eggs to incubate with a little happy bleat. “It’s just… it makes working with foreign leagues an absolute pain and there’s no real research behind it being useful. I mean, Alola doesn’t have anything like it, and they’re way more geographically isolated _and_ more popular as a tourist destination _and_ they have a higher variety of regional variants. But you don’t hear anything about their pokemon population suffering, which you would, if it were happening, because the Ranger association has a strong presence there and they’re not at all subtle or quiet when things are going wrong, environmentally speaking. But we don’t even _have_ Ranger presence in Galar.” Raihan snorted. “So yeah, it’s a stupid law, and it was put in place for stupid, internal-politics reasons within the League.” 

“Mmm,” Leon sighed, “I wish I’d known what I do now, back when I was Chairman. I would have campaigned to remove it.” 

“It’s okay, you gotta leave some work for Chairman Mia,” Raihan teased, dropping a kiss to the crown of Leon’s head. “She’s not _against_ getting rid of it, either. She’s just… got more immediate things to worry about. I’m pretty sure she’ll grant the support to let Mr. Gold breed his salamances, provided we keep track of them and offer a mountain of paperwork for each of them, to prove it. But to actually get them to overturn the law, you’d need to provide the thing they didn’t have when they put it in: scientific proof that it’s unnecessary. And how would you even go about proving that?” 

Before Leon could reply, however, one of the dubwool bleated loudly and anxiously, shifting about, and looking around until it spotted them. Then it bleated again, bouncing in place. 

“Oh,” Leon said, “wait here.” 

He patted Raihan’s back as he pulled away from him, and then shimmied his way through the wall of dubwool, until he was standing inside the nursery proper. It was significantly hotter, but he paid it no mind as he carefully walked over to where the dubwool was still calling. It took a bit of maneuvering, and in some places, leaning on the dubwool or the arcanine lying around, but he made his way there. The dubwool bleated loudly at him and nosed at an egg repeatedly. Carefully, Leon reached out to pet the dubwool’s face. 

“It’s okay,” he said, in his softest voice, thumb rubbing right between its eyes. “I’ve got it.” 

When the dubwool seemed to calm down, Leon bent down and carefully picked up the egg, tucking it into his elbow. With one last pat to the dubwool, he turned around and carefully navigated his way back. 

“It’s probably going to hatch soon,” he said, as he reached Raihan again. “Fifty-fifty if it’s a wooloo.” 

“Here,” Raihan said, offering to take it from him, and then sliding it into the depths of his hoodie for warmth. “What do you mean fifty-fifty?” 

“It’s pretty early for the wooloo to start hatching,” Leon pointed out, “but not unheard of. Every year there’s a few eggs that start hatching in the middle of winter. Dad usually takes them home, to look after, and while we’re usually supposed to foster them for a while, that’s how Hop and I got dubwool and charizard in the first place.” 

Raihan, who’d been nodding along as Leon spoke, stopped, and stared at him. 

“Wait. What?” 

Leon laughed. 

“We honestly don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “I was eight, when my dad gave me the egg to look after. And it was supposed to hatch a wooloo, but it was a charmander instead. And… well, we’ve been partners ever since.” 

“But they’re not even in the same… egg group…” Raihan spluttered, arms folded over his belly, where the egg was now resting. “That’s just… what.” 

“At this point, we just don’t think about it,” Leon said, laughing. “She hatched in my arms and that’s all that matters!” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Raihan said, with fond exasperation, and it only made Leon beam proudly at him. 

They started walking back to the house, then, because it was getting late and lunch sounded like a good idea by then. They chattered about nothing in particular, as they went, and had almost entirely forgotten about the mystery of how Leon’s charizard’s egg had somehow landed in the wooloo nursery. Then the egg in Raihan’s hoodie hatched into a loud, blubbering sobble right as they were rounding down the road and into Postwick proper. 

Raihan let out a short, sharp shriek of surprise, and Leon almost felt bad, for how loudly he laughed. 

* * *

“Aww, cute baby,” Gloria said, the next day, stretching to wiggle a finger at the sobble clutching desperately to Raihan’s neck. “Congratulations, Raihan.” 

“I… yeah,” he said, looking vaguely confused. “Thanks. I’m not exactly sure how to raise this little girl, though.” 

“I’d say just about the same way you’d raise any other pokemon,” Gloria replied, shrugging as she reached to pet her own sobble, as always curled up around her shoulders with his head tucked against her neck. “They’re pretty strong, when they’re fully grown, but they also make for cute pets if fighting is not an option. It’s just something you two have to figure out as you go along.” 

“I guess we do, huh,” Raihan said, tilting his head to look at his brand new sobble, who then immediately let out a loud wail and clung harder, trying to hide her face into the collar of his sweater. “Oh dear.” He looked up at the sound of a camera shutter and gave Leon – and Leon’s rotom – a long-suffering look. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.” 

“Little bit,” Leon replied, grinning, “it’s cute.” Raihan sighed in defeat, as Leon and Gloria laughed at his reaction. “Say,” Leon went on, focusing on Gloria instead. “We’ve been here a couple days now, but I don’t think I’ve seen Nat at all, Gloria.” 

“Well, as it’s probably not a shock to either of you,” she said, rolling her eyes with a flourish, “but the ridiculous poison danger noodle hates the cold.” Raihan spluttered a laugh, just as Leon choked back a snort. “He’s decided he’s going to hibernate the winter away, so he’s dug up a den in the backyard.” She paused dramatically. “Yes, I have in fact pointed out that he’d be way more comfortable inside his pokeball, but he doesn’t like being locked up.” She made a point to look at Leon in the eye, before she shrugged dramatically. “It just be that way, sometimes.” 

Just then, the snow on the field behind her house lit up a familiar bright red, not quite the bright beam of light as a raid battle out there in the wild area. Gloria put her hands on her hips and glared at it the same way Leon’s mum used to glare at him, when he was little and misbehaved. 

“If you insist on being silly, I will continue to call you out on it!” 

“I’ll come back in spring!” Leon called out, as the light seemed to blink in recognition at the sound of his voice. “We can play tag then, Nat!” 

They winced in unison as the shrill call that boomed out of the den, possibly amplified by the echo. 

“I can’t believe you play tag with the doom dragon of poison and hate,” Raihan said, even as he tried to pull his sobble out of his sleeve, where she’d dug into in a panic at the sound of Nat’s call. 

“He goes by poison danger noodle now,” Gloria chirped back cheerfully. “What with him being mostly out of hate these days.” 

“Nat is _great_ at tag,” Leon added, wrapping an arm around Raihan’s waist. “You should try it sometime, it might help you get over your fear of heights.” 

“I don’t have a fear of heights,” Raihan snorted, but wrapped an arm around Leon’s shoulders, “you just happen to lack any sense of self-preservation when it comes to gravity.” 

Gloria snickered. 

“He’s got you there, Leon.” 

But all Leon did was bask in the warmth and beam at them both. 

“He does that, yeah.” 

Raihan flushed as Gloria cooed at them, but Leon couldn’t bring himself to really be embarrassed, because it was the truth. 

* * *

The day after, Raihan hit his head on the stairs again, and Leon’s mum made a point to tell him to stay with her and take it easy because of it. 

There was something in the way she suggested Leon should go spend the day with his dad, that made him feel that even if Raihan hadn’t banged his head, his mum would have found a reason to split them up. So Leon smiled and nodded, and went to find his dad in Wedgehurst. Well, that was the original idea, anyway. He ended up wandering about for a while, with only rotom for company – he’d decided to leave charizard behind if only because she’d taken a ridiculous shine to Raihan’s new sobble and Leon figured he could handle finding his dad on his own, in his own hometown, somehow – but he didn’t really mind it. There was something nice about the quiet as he walked around that didn’t really chafe. He saw his Nan – her and her small army of goletts, along with her golurk and her new shuppet – trailing along a field in the distance, headed for another thicket further south. It was the sort of sight that started ghost stories, Leon reckoned, but his Nan enjoyed that. She was a firm believer that everyone should have at least one good ghost story to tell, to be truly happy, and Leon still hadn’t been able to come up with a good argument against that. 

“And what are you doing here?” His dad said in lieu of a greeting, as Leon ran into him sometime around noon, at the shade of the large windmill. 

“Trying to find you,” Leon said, grinning, “mum reckoned we should talk.” 

“Ah,” his dad said, eyebrows arched, and then sighed. “Yes, I supposed we should. Have you had lunch yet?” 

“Nope,” Leon replied, falling into step with his dad as he began to walk away from the road and towards a set of tree stumps strategically left in place because they served well as a table and two stools. “Care to share?” 

“Well, they do say parenthood is about sacrifice,” his dad teased, shaking his head as he watched Leon clear out the snow to bare the wood with a fond smile on his face. “Raihan makes you happy, doesn’t he?” 

Leon sat back and watched his dad pull out a thermo of hot soup and some roti out of his bag, which he then split up with a grin. 

“He does,” Leon admitted, taking his share of the food with a soft smile. “I’m glad you’ve warmed up to him,” he added, one eyebrow arched, “though I’m not sure you needed to hit him with those questions before you did.” 

“Mmm,” his dad replied, swirling the mug full of soup and not looking at Leon in the eye. “It wasn’t idle chatter, though.” 

“Dad.” 

“I’m growing old, Leon,” he said, and looked over at the distance, across the plans of snow piled up high. “So is your mum. And we love the farm, both of us, we love the way our lives are, right now. But one day, and I don’t think it’s going to be too long, now, the farm is going to be far more work than either of us want or can put into it. And when the day comes that I have to step away from it, I would absolutely prefer to give you and Hop first pick to it. This has been my life, this has been what I’ve worked for and what I’ve wanted to do, since I first came to Galar. But I don’t know if you want that, either of you. Hop has all these ideas and research topics and he’s just… brilliant in a way I don’t understand, much the same way you are.” He reached out to hold one of Leon’s hands and gave it a soft squeeze. “So when the time comes for you to make that choice, I want your partner to let you make that choice based on what’s best for you, both of you, and not hold your relationship hostage to make you choose what _they_ want.” 

“Raihan wouldn’t do that,” Leon said, frowning, and took a sip of his soup, as an excuse to pull his hands away. “I… he’s not that kind of person, dad.” 

“He doesn’t seem to be, no,” his dad agreed, smiling. “But it’s very different to love someone when it’s convenient, than when it’s not.” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“I know you love me,” he said, rolling a piece of roti between his fingers, and ignoring the voice of his mum in the back of his head, chiding him for playing with his food. “But I am not someone that’s _convenient_ to love.” 

“Leon—” 

“I’m not, dad!” Leon insisted, wry grin tugging at his lips. “I’m a nervous wreck two steps away from a spiral of self-deprecation all the time. I’m fantastically creepy without even trying, and when I’m not, I’m fundamentally self-centered. I’m working on it, I really am, and I’m better at it now, because at least I recognize I’m all that so I’m making an effort. So it’s not easy, living with me. It’s not easy to get along with me and share space and work and… _everything_ with me. And yet every time he meets me more than half-way.” Leon rubbed the back of his hand against his nose and did not look at his dad in the eye. “He says he loves me for me, and I honest to god can’t tell you _why_ he would, but I believe him anyway.” 

“You’re going to marry that boy, aren’t you,” his dad said, after a long moment, and it was very much not a question. 

Leon let out a shuddering breath. 

“God, I’ve been meaning to ask him for months now,” Leon whispered, “but mum said I shouldn’t if I wasn’t ready to be told no.” 

His dad laughed and reached a hand to pat Leon’s head, the same way he used to, when Leon was little and barely taller than the dining room table. 

“It’s a habit of your mum’s,” he said, chuckling, “being right.” He waited until Leon finished sniffling and finally looked up at him in the eye with a shaky smile to offer a bright grin. “It’s going to be a spring wedding, right? All good weddings are!” 

Leon buried his face into his hands and wondered if one’s heart could actually burst or if it just felt like that, sometimes. 

* * *

For his birthday, his mom organized a combination of late breakfast and early lunch, to make the best out of the daylight. She enlisted his and Raihan’s help the day before, to deal with preparations, and despite Raihan’s weak attempts to point out he didn’t know the first thing about cooking, he tried his best to help. The house was full of neighbors and pokemon and good food, and Leon beamed through out the whole thing, mostly because he spent most of it sitting next to Raihan, holding Raihan’s hand, under and over the table. 

Around four, by the time the sun was setting and all guests except Professor Magnolia had left, Hop and Sonia came in, looking harrowed. 

“Lee!” Hop called out, making a bee-line for Leon and throwing his arms around his shoulders in a hug that was half-tackle. “I’m so sorry, the trains stopped running all morning!” 

“The tracks got iced,” Sonia said, standing at a prudent distance while Leon and Hop got through the requisite desperate hug, “so yes, third year in a row your birthday is a nightmare, Leon. Remind me why we’re friends again?” 

“Because when you finally snap and conquer the world, I’ll be your most faithful henchman,” Leon replied, laughing as he wrapped an arm around Hop, tucking him against his side. “Imagine how long it’s going to take you to cultivate this level of Stockholm syndrome in someone new?” 

“I don’t know,” Sonia retorted, ignoring Raihan’s choked laughter in the background, and reaching out to wrap Leon into a hug. “Hop can do errands without getting lost in a straight corridor.” 

“If you traumatize my baby brother,” Leon said, pressing the words into her hair, “no one will find the body.” 

“I didn’t traumatize _you_ , you big baby,” Sonia retorted, shoving him back playfully. “Raihan, I hope you know you’re dating a drama queen.” 

“I mean, the cape was pretty telling,” Raihan said, offering a grin in the face of Leon’s wounded look of sheer betrayal. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Leon said, sniffing disdainfully. “I’m gonna hang out with my brother then, who loves me. Because blood is thicker than anything.” 

Hop laughed and latched onto his side again, and then flashed them both a victory sign as Leon led them away from the dining room and into the kitchen. Leon saw Sonia take his seat at the table in the corner of his eye, and vaguely hoped having Professor Magnolia and his parents present would keep Sonia and Raihan’s bickering about historical facts mostly civil. 

“How was the trip to Kalos?” Hop asked excitedly, eyes bright as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “Tell me _everything_.” 

Leon served Hop a plate of leftovers and sat down to tell him about his trip, while he ate. Leon talked about the pokemon battles and the interesting trainers, and Hop soaked it up eagerly, eyes bright. When he started talking about helping Caem and Serena with their legendaries, however, Hop stopped eating, all his attention focused on him. Leon wondered if that was what he looked like, when he was doing research for Sonia. 

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Hop said, folding his arms and leaning on the table, plate of food completely forgotten. “Really interesting, do you think you could put me in contact with them?” He smiled. “Let’s just say… Gloria and I have been working on a theory of sorts. It’s…” Hop bit the inside of his lip. “It’s a secret, so I can’t—” 

“Hop,” Leon said, reaching out to hold his hand. “It’s okay, I’ll be happy to introduce you.” 

“Thank you, Lee! It means a lot!” Hop replied, squeezing his fingers back. “I hate that I can’t tell you.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Leon insisted, “you’ll tell me when you can, right?” 

“Right!” Hop threw a fist up in the air, excited. Then he immediately folded over the table, giving Leon a curious look. “So how’s it been? Having Raihan here? Did he ask dad for your hand yet?” 

Leon would like to pretend he had a dignified, sensible answer for that. Instead, he felt his face burn on reflex, given his last conversation with his dad on the matter, and then buried his face in his hands when Hop cracked up laughing. 

“I take it back,” Leon muttered, “blood is meaningless.” 

“You sure?” Hop teased, clearly amused, “’cause blood went all the way to Hulbury to get you the spices you kept complaining you couldn’t find anywhere in Hammerlocke. That’s why we were late, by the way. They arrived at Nessa’s place yesterday, so I was worried they weren’t going to make it in time for your birthday.” 

“Hop, I don’t know what to say,” Leon said, smiling, “you didn’t have to.” 

“I mean no, I didn’t,” Hop said, cheeky grin firmly in place, “but you’re the only brother I have, so I figured it wouldn’t be so bad to make an effort this year.” 

They shared a look for a moment, before they both burst out laughing. 

Leon contemplated telling Hop the best birthday gift was to hear him laugh like that, basking in the little inside jokes they’d built for themselves, but he reckoned it’d be good to get through the day without crying. 

At least not until Sonia revealed her gift, long after his parents and Hop had gone to bed, and his Nan lingered about only long enough to drop a trio of glasses on the table, before she too went to her room, shaking her head as she went. 

“This is a recipe for disaster,” Raihan said, with the air of a wise man making an astute observation, as he watched Sonia pour their drinks. 

“I’m disappointed you think we need a recipe,” Leon said cheerfully, raising his glass above his head. “To 28! Which is going to be so much better than 27,” he added, and then switched hands holding the glass so he could bang his knuckles on the table. “Knock on wood.” 

“Aye, aye!” Raihan and Sonia chorused, and then bravely, or perhaps stupidly, swung back their glasses along with Leon. 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Raihan said, as soon as he put his glass down, like some sort of premonition of doom. 

Hysterically, Leon laughed. 

* * *

“You need to know something,” Leon said, at around two in the morning, huddling inside his jacket. “Sonia’s… a bit much, Rai.” 

If pressed, he wouldn’t be able to explain _why_ exactly Raihan and Sonia had decided to stomp outside and have a pokemon battle in the yard at two in the morning during one of the coldest nights of the year. But he had enough sense to know someone should warn Raihan about what he was about to do, and that someone should probably be Leon. 

“If you’re gonna call me an asshole, call me an asshole, Leon,” Sonia said, taking her place in the small pitch painted in the yard. 

“I can’t call you an asshole,” Leon whined, “even though you are, mum’s gonna ground me if I do!” 

“I hope I’m not as drunk as you two are,” Raihan said, laughing as he threw out flygon into the pitch. “Let’s do this!” 

“C’mon, yamper!” Sonia retorted, throwing out her own pokeball. “For old time’s sake!” 

“You haven’t even decided on the rules,” Leon insisted form the sidelines, looking from one to the other. 

“Rules are easy,” Sonia snorted, “battle’s over when I win! Yamper, howl!” 

“You _think_ , Miss Clever Clogs! Flygon, earthquake!” Raihan retorted, eyes bright. 

“You’re going to wake up my parents!” Leon hissed, in a very controlled yell. 

“Okay, a quiet earthquake, flygon!” Raihan amended, flashing a thumbs up at flygon when it turned to look at him with a bit of confusion as to how exactly he was supposed to execute that order. 

“Cute,” Sonia replied, hands on her hips, “but not nearly enough. Yamper, play rough!” 

Flygon went down like a sack of bricks. 

“What the hell,” Raihan spluttered, as he recalled his fainted partner on reflex. 

“Told you,” Leon said, wincing, “an asshole.” 

“I thought you weren’t going to call me that!” Sonia protested, spluttering. 

“I remembered my mum’s asleep,” Leon replied, shrugging, “plus, I’m _twenty-eight_ now, my mum can’t ground me anymore.” 

“Your mum could ground a mountain if she fell like it,” Raihan muttered loudly, fumbling with the pokeballs in his belt and the sobble clinging to his chest under his shirt. “Alright, best out of three!” He added, as turtonator landed on the field. 

“Better make it best out of five, dragon boy,” Sonia said, switching her yamper out for her milotic. 

“Absolute asshole,” Leon insisted, and then pulled his hat down his face, so he wouldn’t have to see the ensuing carnage. 

* * *

In the end, Raihan won. 

Mostly because despite how much of a remorseless monster Sonia could be, she didn’t really battle competitively very often anymore. And even if he was very, very drunk, battling was almost second nature to Raihan at that point. It was almost three, as they found themselves walking down route 1, arms hooked and huddling together for warmth, as they headed to the Pokemon Center to heal their fainted pokemon. 

“I can’t believe Postwick’s so small it doesn’t have a Pokemon Center,” Raihan whined under his breath, slouching over and leaning against Leon’s right side. “That’s just dumb.” 

“It’s barely a walk to Wedgehurst, you big baby,” Sonia laughed, half slumped against Leon’s left side. “God, you’re both made for each other.” 

“Glad you figured it out,” Raihan snorted, “now if you’d like to help convincing everyone else who hasn’t…” 

“See, half of me is outraged at the idea anyone would doubt this and is willing to fight for you,” Sonia explained, eyes closed and head tilted back, as if she were lecturing. “The rest of me is still pissed at the fake wedding bullshit—” 

“What fake wedding bullshit?” Raihan asked, blinking. 

“—so I’m calling it karma,” Sonia went on, ignoring him. “You made your bed, Leon, now sleep in it.” 

“Man, sleep sounds so good right now,” Raihan said, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “Or hot cocoa. Lee, let’s go home and make hot cocoa and then we can stare at the stars. There’s so many goddamn stars out here.” 

“Shut up, Sonia,” Leon said, in the loving tones of one who wasn’t sure if he was chiding her for what she’d said, or for what she was thinking of saying, and didn’t want to risk it either way. 

Sonia snickered, and they got maybe ten minutes of silent shuffling in knee-high snow as a result. 

“You should do something for your birthday,” Sonia said, tugging on Leon’s arm almost hard enough to throw him off his feet, considering how much of a struggle it was to stay upright. 

“I did something!” Leon snorted, tugging her back just as hard, or maybe more, because he managed to throw her off her feet and send her colliding into his side, which caused him to tumble into Raihan, and the next thing he knew, they were all sitting on the ground in the middle of the route. “Shit.” 

“I can’t feel my toes,” Raihan announced almost plaintively, from the bottom of the pile of limbs. “Dunno if it’s ‘cause I’m drunk or ‘cause they froze and fell off. But… just letting you know.” 

“C’mon, the lab is just a block away from the Pokemon Center,” Sonia pointed out, “it’s got heating and hot water.” 

“I was thinking of getting my ears pierced,” Leon said, some ten minutes later, when they finished shuffling back upright and all limbs were accounted for. “For my birthday, I mean. I wasn’t allowed to, when I was Champion. So… that or a tattoo, but a tattoo feels _bigger._ Maybe for my 30th.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Sonia snorted, nudging him again. “I offered to do it for you and you said no!” 

“You came at me with a needle and a lighter,” Leon deadpanned, stopping abruptly and nearly causing Raihan to trip because of it. “Also we were seven. Sonia, _no_.” 

“Crybaby,” Sonia huffed, rolling her eyes with a flourish. 

“And damn proud of it!” Leon retorted, huddling up against Raihan’s side. “Rai has never complained.” 

As if to perfectly punctuate the absurdity of the situation, that it was almost three in the morning and it was _freezing_ cold and they were drunkenly stumbling their way to Wedgehurst, Raihan burst out laughing. 

It was terribly contagious. 

* * *

For the first time in nearly seventeen years, Leon did not wake up at five in the morning. 

Or six. 

Or seven. 

It was nearly noon, when the sunlight from the window drilled itself into his face enough as to jolt him back into awareness and he realized he and Raihan were cuddling haphazardly in the guestroom at the Wedgehurst lab. He’d never actually stayed the night there before, though Sonia had offered over the years, if he needed it. It wasn’t… uncomfortable, per se, but it was foreign, and the fact the sky was so bright was disconcerting. 

He _never_ slept in. 

Not even when he got drunk. Not even when he only got an hour or two of sleep. He was always up at five, rearing and ready to go, no matter what. 

Leon took one look at Raihan, though, as he snored away his cares into his side, sobble snoring with equal fervor from the crook of his neck, and realized there was no real reason why he should get up. So he inched his way right back where he’d been before, face pressed against Raihan’s shoulder, and went right back to sleep. 


	9. where we come from, where we're going

On New Year’s Eve, two days after Leon’s birthday, Raihan caught a cold. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Raihan wheezed, aiming for reassuring, probably, and instead getting caught in a loud coughing fit. “Really, Lee, I’m a big boy.” 

“I know, you barely fit in my bed,” Leon replied, smiling as Raihan glared at him for the jab. “It’s okay, Rai. I don’t mind.” 

He didn’t, really. As he watched Raihan slowly relax, lulled to sleep between the way his head fit comfortably on Leon’s thigh and the slow, methodical scratch of Leon’s fingers playing with the soft fuzz of hair along the edges of his undercut, Leon realized it wasn’t just a reassuring platitude. Yes, he liked spending time with his family and he’d told himself he was going to stop missing holidays, now that he was no longer Champion and his time was his own. 

But the idea of leaving Raihan all alone in the house, sick and miserable, so he could go stay at the lake house with everyone else felt wrong. 

It wasn’t so bad, anyway. There was still enough leftovers from Leon’s birthday that all he really need to do was heat them up when they were hungry, and Raihan spent most of the day asleep either way. Leon just sat on the edge of the bed, Raihan’s head propped up against his thigh, and played with their phones while Raihan napped away the worst of it. He played a game with Raihan’s pokemon, pretending not to see them as they sneaked into his room – they’d all been staying downstairs, by the fireplace, as Leon’s mother insisted they would be too cold otherwise – but now, as the hours went on, Leon hid a grin, here and there, as they inched their way forward, slowly crowding their way around the bed. 

Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly morose about it, Leon wondered what it’d be like, if all his pokemon were so used to being right next to him, as opposed to only charizard. They were getting there, sort of, as he slowly let them spend more and more time out and about, instead of in their pokeballs, but he was keenly aware this was a new thing for them, and they were very used to staying put. They were still awkward, indoors, and they absolutely refused to sleep outside their pokeballs, but at least they were getting more and more comfortable spending the day with him, whenever he was working in the enclosure, and at least mimikyu and haxorus liked to nap under his desk in the staff room, while he worked on paperwork. 

But it was nothing compared to goodra’s well-worn corner of the carpet in the living room, or torkoal’s habit to nap under the low table. Raihan’s pokemon were very comfortable occupying the same space as he was, and felt almost… entitled to do so. Deep down, so far deep he still hadn’t managed to properly own up to it, much less chat about it with Dr. Vale, Leon was kind of really, viscerally jealous of that. It wasn’t just Raihan, either. Gloria and Hop were that close with their pokemon too, and that had been one of the first, instinctual changes he’d made, when he’d become Chairman, to remove the insistent rules that said pokemon had to be kept in their pokeballs and out of sight, unless they were working. It was a very small change, in the large scale of things, or at least, he hoped it was, compared to the further changes he made, during his tenure, but it had sort of signaled how differently he viewed the world, compared to his predecessor. 

Pokemon were not tools, they should not be treated like they were. 

Neither were people, honestly, but he was still dealing with the fallout from that to really make any significant commentary except for well-meant platitudes. He did not envy Mia and Jenna the job he’d left for them, really. Most days, he also didn’t feel too guilty about leaving it to them, instead of staying to make sure it was done, even if it killed him in the process. Most days. 

“He’ll be alright,” Leon said, reaching a hand to scratch the underside of flygon’s chin, causing his wings to flutter on reflex, “you’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

Almost as if to question that statement, there was a sudden, angry scratching on the front door. It was a solid front door, Leon remembered his dad trying to put it up when he was eight and accidentally throwing his back when it slipped and fell on him. His Nan’s golurk ended up doing the job, instead, and his Nan kept smirking but saying nothing until his dad was feeling good enough to walk out of bed again. It was a _solid_ door, was the point, and it felt that whatever was scratching on it was strong enough to bring it down at the pace it was going. 

“Wait here,” Leon said, pausing to look at all of Raihan’s pokemon in the eye, one by one, because they were dragons, and he wasn’t sure they weren’t going just going to storm downstairs and make a scene. Last but not least, he made sure to nod at the tiny sobble still desperately clinging to Raihan’s neck, staring up at Leon with wide eyes as it half-hid behind Raihan’s chin. “Stay with Raihan.” 

Leon grabbed the belt hanging off the wall, six pokeballs neatly clipped to it, before heading downstairs. It was the same team he’d used to battle Raihan and Sonia the day before, so it should be enough to face anything, he hoped. 

When he opened the door, zacian was there, baring her teeth and growling nervously. She took one look at Leon, right in the eye, and then turned and vanished, reappearing at the edge of the fence, leading into the road. She bared her teeth again, expectant. 

Leon took one look back into the house, and then sighed. 

“Sure,” he said, grabbing a coat off the rack behind the front door, “why not.” 

It was by far the least stupid thing he’d done in his life, probably didn’t even rank in the top five. 

* * *

Zacian led him into the Weald, which would normally be a terrible idea all by itself, but it was also late and dark already, not to mention impossibly _cold_. Leon huddled inside his coat and worked up a sweat fighting his way through the knee-high snow, which – and this seemed rather unfair – zacian seemed to be able to walk over without sinking in it. Perks of being a legendary, he supposed, but still. 

There was fog, in the Weald, which wasn’t really surprising at all, considering it was always foggy in there, no matter the season or the time of day, but there was a sickly-sweet aftertaste to it that made Leon dizzy the further in he went. 

“Shit,” he heard someone say, as he stumbled his way to the lake at the heart of the Weald, sinking into his knees and feeling his lungs burn. “Lee!” 

It took a moment, and then someone was pressing a mask to his face, and four breaths in, his vision cleared enough to realize it was Hop, holding onto him, with zacian growling in concern nearby, looking strangely cowed. Leon pressed the mask into place and sat up enough so he could fix it properly to his face. It was a bulky thing, the kind of thing he’d only ever seen in the workers from the mines, when they went in too deep and the air was scarce. 

“Thanks,” Leon croaked, once he felt capable of speech, “Hop… what’s-“ 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Hop said, excitement spilling out of his voice in a hushed whisper as he pointed at the edge of the water, “it’s just Gloria and Nat.” 

Leon followed his arm to where it pointed, and sure enough, there was Gloria – not wearing a coat, which was _nuts_ considering how cold it was – standing by the water… no, on the water, reaching out to hold onto Nat’s head. 

“I thought he’d decided to hibernate the winter away,” Leon said, frowning at the poisonous miasma that seemed to ooze from where they were standing. 

“That’s what we thought, too,” Hop replied, and Leon found himself somewhat relaxed despite it all, because Hop was clearly not at all worried about whatever it was they were witnessing, all but vibrating with excitement. “But he’s decided to bind himself to her, instead.” 

“Bind?” Leon asked, and realized the sort of chirring static was not a result of nearly passing out, but a crooning sound coming out of Nat himself. 

“It happens sometimes,” Gloria’s mum said, standing a few steps behind them, mask in place and hands on her hips. “When you’re dealing with legendaries.” Leon swore she had not been standing there, three seconds prior. She seemed to be smiling, given the way her eyes glinted, clearly unconcerned by the whole thing. “They’re territorial creatures; once they find a human partner they _really_ like, they want to make sure they’ll always stay with them, no matter what.” 

“We’ve been-“ Hop began, and then swallowed hard. “ _I_ have been studying that,” he corrected, looking at Leon with the same set to his jaw as when he’d first announced he wanted to go on the Gym Challenge: determined and yet still hoping for approval and support. Leon realized, almost for the first time, that Hop didn’t really need to look _up_ at him anymore. “Legendaries, I mean, and… you know. _Everything_ around them.” 

Leon smiled, realized Hop couldn’t see his smile, and then reached an arm to pull him against his side. 

“You’re going to be a _legendary_ professor, I see,” he said, beaming even as Hop groaned at the pun. 

“There it is,” Gloria’s mum said, before Hop could gather his thoughts enough to reply. 

The water in the spring grew murky, faintly purple, and slowly thickened into sludge. It reminded Leon of the old PSAs about pollution that used to run on TV when he was a child, back before Macro Cosmo’s energy grid became so ubiquitous, there was no longer a choice about how one got power delivered home. Nat screeched like he’d screeched back atop Hammerlocke, a shrill, thunderous sound that made all hair on Leon’s skin stand on end on reflex. Then he melted away into the same, vivid red light that heralded a dynamax battle, and disappeared. 

“Gloria!” Hop said, rushing to where his friend was standing, and stopping a few feet away when she abruptly raised a hand, palm facing him, motioning him to stay in place. “How are you?” Hop asked, not stepping forward, but also not backing away. “All good?” 

“I feel…” Gloria looked down at her hands, which were not covered in gloves, despite the freezing cold, and only then Leon realized the snow had not reached the heart of the Weald, somehow. “Poisonous?” 

Hop frowned. 

“Poisonous or venomous?” He asked, in complete seriousness, and Leon didn’t laugh at the look Gloria gave him, because he was his brother and he felt obligated to take his side, no matter what. 

“I don’t know,” she deadpanned, resting her hands on her hips, and Leon felt there was definite glimmer of _red_ to her eyes, “why don’t you come give me a hug and _then_ we’ll find out.” 

“…I deserved that,” Hop admitted with a little wince. “I think a good word for it is toxic?” 

“Mm,” Gloria agreed, then looked over to where her mum and Leon were standing. “The spring, though—” 

“It’s fine,” her mother said, a tilt in her voice that made Leon look back at her, and notice, for the first time, the fact her eyes were not _brown_ , as he’d always assumed – remembered – but rather, a very particular shade of lilac. “See?” She added, nodding at the spring, and Leon failed to see what it was, that moved on the other side of it, but a ripple extended from the opposing shore, and it purified the water as it went, returning the spring back to its previous state without fuss. “Good as new.” 

“Thanks, mum,” Gloria said, smiling, and then gave Leon a sheepish look. “Hi, Leon. We can explain!” 

Hop and Gloria’s mum had taken off their masks, by then, so Leon risked doing the same, for the sake of giving his erstwhile protégé a beaming and hopefully reassuring smile. 

“I mean, you don’t _have_ to,” he said, and found he meant it, “but it would be nice.” 

Awkwardly, they tried. 

* * *

“That’s new,” Raihan said, sitting up to grab the mug of hot cocoa Leon was offering, and blinking at the very large, very blue, and very grumpy legendary dog plopped in the furthest corner of Leon’s room, distinctly separate from the rest of the pokemon sprawled all over the floor, pretending to sleep with various degrees of success. 

“It’s been an exciting evening,” Leon replied, and winced when zacian huffed irritably and turned her back to them very purposefully. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I wanna hear everything that happened while I was passed out,” Raihan replied, voice raspy as he cradled his mug like… well, a dragon cradling part of its hoard. He dipped a finger into the mug and then offered it to sobble to taste, grinning a little when the small troublemaker made a face and then decided to go burrow into the depths of his shirt again. “Preferably before I pass out again.” 

Leon made a pensive sound as he opened the curtains – but not the window, it was _freezing_ out there, and even after a hot shower, he still feared his toes were going to give up the fight and straight up fall off – so they could cuddle under the covers and still watch the fireworks being shot from the lake house to count down the precise moment the new year began. 

“You ever get the feeling that Hop and Gloria are either going to revolutionize the world in a few years, or start up one of those creepy teams they have in other regions, that tries to conquer the world somehow?” 

Raihan blinked and then laughed. The laughter then immediately turned into coughing, so Leon made his best to rub his back and help him keep a hold of his mug until the fit passed. 

“Oh they wouldn’t start an evil team,” Raihan pointed out, leaning in to rest his head on Leon’s shoulder, looking fairly content despite the cold and _his_ cold. “I mean, Team Yell is _right there_ , and I hear Gloria’s put the fear of her in them already. Piers thinks it’s hysterical.” 

Leon opened his mouth to argue the point, but then he recognized the taunting tilt to Raihan’s grin and burst out laughing himself. 

“God, I love you,” Leon said, pressing a kiss to the crown of Raihan’s head, “you always know exactly what to say.” 

“That is _patently_ untrue,” Raihan replied, wheezing a little laugh, “but I’m sick and in dire need to be pampered, so please, tell me more of your spectacular lies.” 

They huddled under the covers, after that, and Leon made sure to share a few so-called lies, whispered right in Raihan’s ear, until he fell asleep. 

It was a pretty wonderful way to start the year, and, he hoped, an auspicious one as well. 

* * *

“It’s kind of you to offer to take her in.” 

Leon looked up from the snow he was busy clearing out of the yard. It was early – disconcertingly, still not as early as his usual mornings – and the snow had that off-color glow it only got when sunlight hit it just right as the sun began to peak in the horizon. He found Gloria’s mum leaning on the rock fence around the yard, sipping on a snorlax-themed mug and giving him one of those shrewd looks that sort of reminded him clearly where Gloria had learned them from. 

It occurred to Leon, as he put the plow away and walked over to the fence to greet her properly, that he didn’t really know much about her, as a person. His mum never had anything but nice things to say about her, that she was nice and generally well-meaning, for all she seemed to be restless and coming up with a new business to pursue each year. In Postwick, where most families had been looking after functionally the same flocks for generations, that kind of constant change was not exactly welcome. Leon’s own family was very new to Postwick, but when his parents had moved in, they had gained life-long friendships around town by throwing themselves into the local business of wooloo rearing. Gloria’s mum had moved in the year after Leon became champion, and had never really made much an attempt to fit in, instead rather happy to become the village’s resident eccentric. As far as Leon could tell, the only reason she’d ended up befriending Leon’s mum was because Gloria and Hop were about the same age, and she hadn’t turned away Leon’s mum when she’d started to fuss about Gloria and letting her spend time with Hop. 

Leon wondered if his mum had fussed the same about Sonia and him, but he couldn’t rightly remember a time _before_ he met Sonia, couldn’t even remember meeting her, in the first place. She’d always been there. And maybe for Hop, Gloria was the same. 

Leon trusted his mother to be an excellent judge of character, so he’d always automatically thought kindly of and baseline liked Gloria’s mum, but there was something to her, now that he’d seen her in the Weald, the way she’d spoken and the way she’d smiled, as Gloria found herself permanently bonded to Nat, that made the inside of Leon’s head itch. He realized he’d never even asked her name – she was _just_ Gloria’s mum, come to Postwick from who knew where, for no other reason, it seemed, than to raise her daughter and drive the neighbors into fits with whatever new nonsense she came up with for her yard – or where she lived, before coming to Postwick. She kept to herself, and Leon hadn’t really cared, honestly, because in the beginning he’d only cared about Gloria in so far Hop liked her and called her friend the same way he had Sonia. Then Gloria had proven herself, but she rarely spoke of her mother in concrete ways, always vague enough to not pique Leon’s curiosity or make him think too hard about it. It was odd, in retrospect. 

Just a tad. 

“Ma’am,” Leon said, smiling despite his thoughts, “morning, ma’am.” 

“Mornin’,” she replied, and leaned on the stone fence, one arm folded on it, one elbow planted on it, and rested her chin on her hand, looking up at him with an edge of mischief. “You know you don’t have to, right? Take her in, I mean. Sooner or later, she’ll have to deal with it.” 

Leon resisted the urge to chew on the inside of his lip and looked back to the front door, where zacian was lying on her side and studying him with unnervingly sharp eyes. 

“I guess,” Leon admitted, shrugging slightly. “But she’s _really_ upset and I feel bad, she came to me for help.” 

“She’s not a yamper,” Gloria’s mum pointed out, head tilted slightly sideways, in a gesture Leon was more comfortable witnessing in Gloria herself. “She came to you for a reason.” 

“He hasn’t told me,” Leon said, and looked away. “Even yesterday, in the heat of it, even as he explained, he didn’t tell me.” 

She gave him a shrewd look, brown eyes narrowed just a tad, and he had a mad, ridiculous impulse to challenge her to a pokemon battle, right then and there, just for that look. 

“There’s nothing wrong with what they’ve done,” she replied, and the moment passed, her expression the same calm and vaguely cheerful once he’d always seen in the few photos he’d seen of her, mostly in Gloria’s phone. “In principle, anyway. That’s what legendaries do, that’s how they become legendary. They find a partner and have some fun, maybe a little adventure, and it all becomes a nice story people tell down the road, to remember them by.” 

“Mm,” Leon replied, because he wasn’t sure he had words to fit the thoughts in his head. 

“Taking her in is kind of you,” she insisted, “but if she truly wanted to _be_ with you, she would have chosen you the same way her brother chose yours. You’d do well to remember that, it’ll save you heartache in the future.” 

Leon felt a shiver run up his spine, as he realized zacian was there, standing behind him, teeth bared and feral growl brewing in her throat. 

“Hey,” Leon said, raising his hands placatingly. “None of that, now… C’mon!” He got nipped for his trouble, a little warning and not much else, but the fact he didn’t back down immediately made zacian huff and bump her nose against his fingers, almost in apology. “See? Nothing to get upset about.” 

Zacian made a low, grumbling sound, and then did that thing she did, where she vanished into fog and reappeared back by the front door, curled up with her back to them, like nothing at all had happened. 

“Leon.” 

He risked a look, at the sharpness of her voice, and sure enough, there was an edge of lilac to her eyes that he’d failed to notice entirely before. 

“I know it’s only temporary,” Leon replied, shrugging. “I know that. I’m not… it’s not about _me_ ,” he said, licking his lips. “I just… I know what it’s like, to want space to sort yourself out after a big change. I don’t see why zacian would be any different in that regard.” 

Gloria’s mum smiled. 

“You’re a good kid,” she said, and toasted at him with her mug, which sort of broke the entire tension of the moment, what with the fact it was still very much snorlax-themed. “And you’re one hell of a trainer, too. But still, you need to remember you’re taking home an unbound legendary and not a stray baby pokemon.” 

Leon heard zacian snort very loudly at that. 

“All due respect, Ma’am,” he said, standing up straight, “after learning to handle baby dragons? I think I can deal with a disgruntled legendary that just wants a place to have a proper sulk without getting judged too much.” 

She arched an eyebrow at that, not quite taken aback, before she laughed. She had a rather nice laugh, Leon thought, even as she shook her head at him. 

“One day, dear,” she said, “you’ll learn that sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself and the rest of the world, it’s to step away from the spotlight.” 

But before Leon could figure out how to reply to that, she’d waved a chirpy _good luck_ and started walking back to her home, not looking back. 

* * *

Raihan banged his head on the stairs, when he finally made it back downstairs, cold mostly defeated, two days later. 

He didn’t hurt himself, though, because Leon’s dad had made sure to cover the edge of the stairs, right where he’d hit it before, with a chunk of repurposed pool noodle, firmly screwed into place to avoid further unnecessary head trauma. 

“What?” Leon asked, blinking when he realized Raihan was rooted to the spot, in the middle of the stairs, staring at the thing. 

Raihan blinked, shrugged, and then ducked under the stairs. 

“Nothing,” he said, and when to slump on Leon’s back, pulling him into an almost smothering hug. “I’m being dumb.” 

Leon frowned, tilting his head back to try and stare at Raihan in the eye, and maybe ask what he meant, but his mom chose that moment to poke her head through the kitchen door and smiled benignly at them, but mostly at Raihan. 

“Raihan,” she said, head tilted slightly, “come and help me, will you, sweetheart?” 

Raihan pressed a laugh folded into a kiss against Leon’s temple, squeezed him in his hold, and then ambled away with a brilliant smile hanging off his lips. 

“Sure thing, ma’am!” 

Leon watched him go for a moment, not quite sure what had just happened, and then followed after, keen on getting breakfast. 

* * *

Raihan’s sandaconda did not like Leon very much, as evidenced by his habit to wrap himself around one of the seemingly endless balls with Leon’s face on it that were still cluttering bits of the house, and then coiling around it until it popped. It was his favorite pastime, to the point Leon had started to worry what would happen once they ran out of balls, and came to the horrifying realization he’d have to somehow procure more. Because Raihan’s sandaconda didn’t like him one bit, but the sentiment was very much not mutual, not in the least bit because Raihan had a massively soft spot for his – his words, not Leon’s – scaley sweetheart baby. Leon cared about anything and anyone Raihan cared, in principle and, he tried, in practice, so that meant he’d already figured out a few roundabout ways to keep sandaconda well supplied, when he inevitably ran out. 

Sandaconda really was the standout, however, when it came to Raihan’s pokemon. All of them had warmed up to Leon fairly well, and weren’t really all that cautious or aloof anymore, now that it became obvious he was really going to stay around and share space with them. Leon chalked it up to Raihan being an exceptional trainer, really, fostering really well-behaving pokemon. Even sandaconda’s perpetual hissing at him, he saw more as a reflection of how territorial and attached he was to Raihan, than anything else. He tried his best to get along with Raihan’s pokemon, though, to learn what they liked and how to groom them properly. It was nice to spend time with them, outside of all their battles, and really, Leon found how affectionate they were about Raihan to be really cute. 

He was happy to know most of Raihan’s pokemon were enjoying their small vacation down in Postwick, and he found their antics generally fun, particularly those that involved trying to get treats from his mum. His mum was a sucker for cute pokemon anyway, always and forever willing to spoil them rotten, so it seemed everyone, even sandaconda, were having a good time. 

“Someone had fun playing in the snow, huh,” Leon said, gently rubbing oil into duralodon’s back. He grinned when duralodon leaned back, chirping happily about it. “Thank you for hanging out with Mr. Rime,” Leon added, beaming. “No one really enjoys the cold like him, so it’s nice for him to have someone to play with.” 

Duralodon chirred again, leaning back into Leon’s hands. It always tripped Leon, how little he actually weighted. He looked big and bulky, but he was actually significantly lighter than he seemed, and it was really easy to hoist him up, considering he was surprisingly cuddle-prone. But Leon wasn’t about to complain about it, it was nice. At least it was nice for the five seconds it lasted before someone got jealous and the cuddling became bracing and then he was being buried under very loud protests demanding their share of attention, as it was so often the case. He couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Lee?” Raihan called, lurking by the doorway. “You okay?” 

Leon offered a thumbs up with the one arm that wasn’t currently covered in playful pokemon and began the slow, careful process of crawling out from under that particular pile. Raihan always made it look so much easier, really, when it happened to him. Maybe one day Leon would be privy to his secrets. 

“Hi,” Leon said, once he was finally free, sitting on the carpet and valiantly ignoring the pair of baby dragons determinedly climbing up his legs to restart the pile again. 

“I—” A funny thing happened, then. Raihan opened his mouth to say something, and then seemingly thought better of it, because he didn’t actually say it. Instead, he walked over to show Leon the contents of the plate he was oh so carefully holding in his hands. “Your mom said these were your favorite, when you were little?” 

“Oh,” Leon said, and felt his expression brighten up on reflex when his eyes landed on the malpua carefully arranged on the plate. “Oh, I haven’t eaten those in _years_.” 

“Yeah, your mom said…” Raihan trailed off as Leon reached out and grabbed one the moment he was in reach. He swallowed hard as Leon bit into it with a bit of childish zeal. “Good?” 

“Sweeter than I remembered, actually!” Leon replied, licking his lips and his fingers, to try and avoid getting himself smeared in syrup like he used to, when he was five and ate malpua by the fistful. “You should try them! You like sweets way more than I do.” 

Raihan thinned his lips, again, looking like he wanted to say something and then decided not to. He pushed the plate into Leon’s hands. 

“Maybe later,” he said, turning away, heading for the front door. 

“Rai?” 

“Going for a walk!” Raihan said, raising a hand and waving dismissively without turning back. 

Leon frowned. 

“Do you want me to—” 

“I’m good,” Raihan said, throwing a thick, bulky jacket on. “Just… need to clear my head for a bit.” He turned enough to flash Leon a wry smile. “Enjoy your treats, Lee.” 

And then he was gone, not slamming the door, because that’d be childish and rude, and Raihan was neither, but Leon couldn’t shake off the feeling that he’d just witnessed his rival run away from him for the first time in his life. 

Raihan’s pokemon were as distressed as he felt, but at least trying to calm them down gave him something to do other than brood on his own feelings. 

* * *

When Raihan came back from his walk, he was pointedly the same he always was, and Leon felt keenly awkward bringing it up when there didn’t seem anything to bring up. 

“I don’t always invite you along when I hang out with Piers,” Raihan said, when Leon tried to awkwardly ask if he’d mind staying alone for the night, while Leon accepted Sonia’s invitation to hangout at the Lake House, “so of course you don’t have to invite me to hang out with Sonia. It’s fine, Lee.” 

Of course, Raihan was sensible and _normal_ and he wasn’t consumed with the burning possessive jealousy that Leon was still trying to wrestle under control, so he didn’t know how much Leon _burned_ when he was not invited to those little outings – or not so little, like the camping trips. Regardless, Raihan was assuming Leon was… well, less viscerally jealous than he was, and it only made it more awkward to even attempt to set the record straight. 

Leon headed off to the Lake House in the afternoon and left Raihan in the living room about to embark on a movie marathon with his dad and his Nan. Raihan seemed okay, weirdly, incessantly okay, steady, and calm like he always was; in control. Leon didn’t know why he didn’t quite believe it, why it nagged him, but he didn’t know how to ask or even if he should. He shouldered a backpack with his supplies for making dinner, and started the walk to the Lake House, zacian in tow. He didn’t mean to bring zacian along, honestly, but she decided to tag along and if nothing else, he appreciated having someone along to grab his hand and tug him in the right direction. It meant he actually got there while the sun was still in the sky, which was a novelty in and of itself. 

Dinner was a breeze, and like always, conversation was light and unhurried, until they broke out the second bottle of wine and relocated to Sonia’s bed, on account of there being three feet of snow outside and neither of them wanting to freeze off in the bench. zacian took ownership of the carpet in the living room and went to sleep almost the moment Leon started up the stairs. 

“Okay, fine, I overreacted,” Sonia admitted, back against the headboard, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, holding her glass in one hand, while the other rested on Leon’s chest, fingers drumming along with her words. “It was a dumb assumption you made, but it pissed me off way more than it should.” 

Leon was lying with his back on the bed and his legs propped up along the headboard and stretched up into the wall, arms folded behind his head and hair sprawled everywhere, exactly like he always did, whenever he and Sonia shared a bed. It was just more comfortable that way. His own wine glass was on the floor by the edge of the bed, all he had to do was reach down for it, but he didn’t because he figured he should take it easy. Slow. 

“I’ve never seen tabloid stuff about you before,” Leon admitted, wincing. “Of course it was stupid and fake, in retrospect, it was _tabloid_ stuff, but I never considered it might be a thing you dealt with.” 

“It’s very much a thing, now,” Sonia sighed, shaking her head. “Since the second edition of the book sold out and it’s become a lot more well-read… which, infuriatingly, probably has to do with both your sponsorship back when you were Chairman of the League, and the fact the wonder twins decided to promote it as part of their _mea culpa_ over their dumb dynamax disaster.” 

Leon reached out to cover the hand on his chest with his own and squeezed her fingers encouragingly. 

“Your book is popular and well-read because it’s brilliant and people love it. The extra publicity is just a nice bonus, but it definitely didn’t need it.” 

“Shut up,” Sonia snorted, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand and shoving playfully at him. “I’m trying to be angry at you so that it matters when I magnanimously forgive you.” 

“You gave me cleansing tags from Mt. Pyre for my birthday,” Leon pointed out, blinking up at her, “I thought you’d already forgiven me.” 

“I asked Gran to get those for you back when she visited Hoenn with Hop,” Sonia explained, eyebrows arched. “I wasn’t going to let a thoughtful gift go to waste just because you’re _insufferable_.” 

Leon blinked at her and then grinned. 

“You love me,” he said, shifting about until he was sitting by her side. 

“I do no such thing,” Sonia snorted, shoving a hand at his face and then using it to try and tip him off the bed entirely. 

“You do,” Leon singsonged, grinning against her palm and refusing to budge. “I bet you think real nice things about me just because, and you smile whenever you remember we’re friends.” 

“I will throw you into the lake,” Sonia hissed, “forget forgiveness, I don’t need to forgive you if you’re _dead_.” 

“But Sonia, I love you right back,” Leon insisted, grin mischievous as he tugged her into a hug, “if you kill me, I will _definitely_ haunt you.” 

Sonia basked in the hug for a moment and then sighed, shifting about until she got comfortable. 

“Leon,” she said, “if you delay my wedding because you’re haunting me, I’ll get your Nan to exorcise you.” 

She let the words hang for a long moment, and Leon feared he’d let it gone for so long as to make it awkward, but… 

But. 

“…really?” He whispered, eyes wide, tugging her off his chest just enough so he could look at her face, voice overflowing with awe. 

“Really,” Sonia replied, shrugging and refusing to look at him in the face, which was a tell-tale sign that she was embarrassed but not mad. “If I tell you it’s your fault, will you promise to not be smug about it?” 

“Forget smug, I’m so _excited_ for you,” Leon said, grin so wide his cheeks hurt, “but just to clarify, you’re marrying Nessa, right?” 

Sonia shrieked a little laugh and smacked him across the face with the nearest pillow. 

“Of course it’s Nessa!” She snarled, trying her best to smother Leon’s taunting cackle, as she tried her best to shove him off her bed. “I can’t _believe_ you.” 

“I mean, you said it was my fault and last I knew, all this mess started ‘cause I thought you married someone who definitely wasn’t Nessa, so…” He grinned up at her, head hanging off the edge of the bed and body awkwardly twisted away from the wine glass he was pretty sure she _would_ murder him for, if he dropped on the carpet. “Can’t blame me for trying to get the story straight!” Leon paused significantly. “Even if, y’know, there’s nothing straight about either of us.” 

“That’s it!” Sonia said, throwing the pillow away and sliding off the bed entirely. “You’ve punned your last pun of the night, you’re making me food or I’m throwing you into the lake.” 

Leon, hanging half off the bed, body twisted awkwardly to keep his balance, looked at her with arched eyebrows. 

“But I already did,” he said, “that was dinner.” 

“And it was lovely,” Sonia said, looking down at him with an air of great superiority, like he should be thankful she was so gracious as to grant him that much, “but now you’re making me sweet stuff so I don’t feed you to milotic for being dumb.” 

“Aye, aye,” Leon laughed, shaking his head, “I’ve been meaning to practice my baking anyway.” 

After a few false starts, he ended up baking her chocolate cake off a recipe they frankestained together from six different blogposts, and then spent the rest of the night demolishing three bottles of wine, looking at wedding dresses and bickering about hairstyles to go with them. 

Leon never did get around asking Sonia’s thoughts on Raihan’s sudden outburst and whether he should ask about it or not, but he reckoned it was okay. 

Not everything had to be about him, after all. 

* * *

Leon decided not to ask Raihan anything, considering they still had a couple days left before they went home and Raihan seemed keen to enjoy himself and also to agree to anything Leon’s dad came up with. This included learning how to fix a fence, which made Leon reckon there really _wasn’t_ anything wrong at all and he was being paranoid, because they shared a look and a laugh, afterwards. Also a snog in a barn, but Leon was pretending that didn’t happen on account of his dad almost catching them red handed. 

It was fine. 

“That’s Nan’s,” Leon pointed out, blinking as Hop threw out a pokeball into the yard, and a rather fearsome-looking trevenant came out of it. 

Last time Leon had seen him, he had been a very aggressive phantump and he’d taken four pokeball throws to catch. He looked good, curling a wooden arm around Hop possessively, giving Leon the same squinty look he always did. 

“ _You_ ’d be able to tell,” Hop said, laughing as he leaned in and patted one of trevenant’s roots comfortingly. His expression turned wry. “You’re right, of course, he used to be Nan’s.” Hop pursed his lips for a moment, and then sighed. “There was a bit, there, during the Gym Challenge, where I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. So I retooled my team, over and over again… and then I remembered the team you’d used to become Champion. How even after so long, you still had a strong ghost presence in your team.” Hop swallowed hard, not looking at Leon… which was probably for the best, since Leon wasn’t sure what kind of expression was plastered all over his face. “I’m not like you, Lee. I know that now, and I’m okay with it! Really, I am. I get to be me, and you get to be you, and _that’s okay_. But back then I was… I was trying really hard to be you. Like you. So I came home and asked Nan if there was any way I could… you know, _see_ things and become a ghost trainer like you.” 

“Oh, Hop,” Leon whispered, fingers twitching with the urge to pull his brother into a hug. 

“I know, I know, that’s not how it works,” he laughed, rubbing his face with his hand, pretending his voice wasn’t wet around the edges. “You either have it or you don’t, and I very much don’t.” He said it with aplomb, with the sort of solid certainty of someone speaking a hard-earned truth, and Leon ached to hear it. To know Hop had had to learn that. “Nan still traded me her phantump for my cramorant, though. He’s very strong, but he doesn’t have a lot of synergy with the rest of my team, so we don’t really battle much.” Hop shrugged and risked offering Leon a small, tentative smile. “He’s been a lot of help in researching the Weald, though! He’s an invaluable part of our research team!” 

Trevenant roared at that, raising his arms proudly at that. It made Leon smile. 

“Besides…” Hop trailed off, swallowing hard and closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, there was a ring of red around the warm yellow of his irises, much the same way as there was in zacian and zamazenta’s. “Besides, I’ve found out there’s things I can do that you can’t.” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“That’s true,” he said, trying his best to not be unnerved by how Hop looked. “And at the end of the day, you’ll always be my brother. Nothing’s going to change that. Ghosts or legendaries. Right?” 

“Always,” Hop insisted, and then gave in and latched himself to Leon in a hug. 

Once again, Leon was forced to reconcile with the truth that Hop was not the small boy he always remembered from pictures his mum sent him after every delivery Carl made. Hop was almost as tall as he was, and not looking to stop growing any time soon. Sure, he was lankier than Leon, but he had healthy coping mechanisms for his feelings and he didn’t spend two hours in the gym every day, working out a sweat and sorting out his brain. At seventeen he was nearly fully grown, and there was a slight bitterness to the realization, Leon knew, because he’d missed nearly fifteen years of his brother’s life, but it was unfair to ask him to stop and let them catch up. All he could do, really, was to offer unconditional support and make sure he was present for the rest of Hop’s life, that he didn’t waste more time looking back at what was gone, and missed what was right in front of him in the process. 

“You didn’t have to tell me,” Leon whispered, feeling Hop dig his fingers into his back. “But I’m glad you did. I’m here for you, Hop. Always, I swear.” 

“Good,” Hop laughed, “because I still have to tell mum and dad, and I have _no idea_ how.” 

“Honestly? Stay for dinner tonight,” Leon said, pulling back to look at Hop in the eye. He grinned. “Just wait until mum asks if you want seconds, say yes and then just… you know. Drop it on them.” He laughed at the dubious stare Hop gave him for his efforts. “That’s how I dropped _my_ bombshell, anyway, and it worked out just fine. If you want to be nicer than me, make sure dad’s done drinking so he doesn’t choke on it when you do.” 

Hop continued to stare at him in something like horrified fascination. 

“You did _not_ ,” he said, as he realized what exactly Leon meant by bombshell. 

“Absolutely, 100% did,” Leon admitted, shrugging. “Bonus because I dropped it the night before Nan and Professor Magnolia took Sonia and me to visit a friend of theirs, in the archipelago east of Spikemuth, and we stayed there for six months before coming back.” He shrugged harder. “I mean, I called home every night and talked to both of them, extensively. But that’s still a thing I did.” 

Hop buried his face in his hands, and laughed. 

“You know what? Professor Magnolia is right,” he said, peering at Leon through his fingers, “mum really _is_ a saint.” 

Leon agreed because, well, it was probably the truth. 

* * *

At dinner, it was Raihan who ended up choking on his drink while Hop casually started explaining the nuances of his research into legendaries. 

Under the table, even as he patted Raihan’s back sympathetically, Leon held his brother’s hand in silent, unwavering support. 

* * *

“I owe you an apology,” Raihan said, their last night in Postwick, as he and Leon watched the wooloo settle into their pens for the night, frowning. 

Leon, who still sometimes struggled with the need to apologize for everything that happened, ever, even if he had no real involvement in it, because his anxiety was dickish like that sometimes, blinked and stared at him in surprise. As far as he was concerned, Raihan had never done any thing that required an apology. Raihan was kind and generous and understanding. He was thoughtful of both what he said and what he did, and he was always graceful about Leon’s best attempts at not fumbling their relationship. He put up with Leon’s ghosts and Leon’s anxiety and Leon’s puns and Leon’s _everything_ , and somehow found it in himself to reciprocate Leon’s desperate love for him without feeling smothered by it. 

Raihan, as far as Leon was concerned, did not need to apologize for anything, ever, much less to him. 

“I was short with you, the other day,” Raihan said, shrugging in the face of Leon’s stare. “I walked out without explaining myself, and you’ve been walking on eggshells around me afterwards.” 

“You were upset,” Leon replied, resisting the urge to bite the inside of his lip. “Or… I thought you were, but I didn’t know why and I didn’t want to pry, so I… I tried to give you space.” 

Raihan made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and ran a hand through his hair, not looking at Leon. 

“I…” Raihan trailed off, and then sighed. “I realized something that made me uncomfortable, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I’m still trying to figure it out, but it’s not your fault and it was shitty of me to lash out at you and make you freak out.” 

“I didn’t freak out,” Leon lied defensively, on reflex, and then winced when Raihan stared at him, blue eyes cutting right through him. 

“Lee, baby,” Raihan snorted, “you freak out about _everything_ , by default.” He grinned wryly. “You start talking in run-on sentences and trying to cram explanations about how much you’re not freaking out, whilst you freak out gloriously.” Leon felt his face burn with the truth of such an assessment. “And I happen to think, in general, that it’s cute, but that doesn’t make it not shitty that I upset you because I couldn’t keep my splash damage under control.” Raihan let out a sigh. “So. I’m sorry. It wasn’t okay.” 

Leon pursed his lips. 

“Do… do you want to talk about it?” He found himself repeating the same thing he’d told Hop, before: “You don’t have to, of course. But… I’m here. If you want.” 

Raihan was silent for a long while, and then shrugged. 

“Coming here, meeting your family, I liked it a lot,” he explained, eyes fixed in the distance, the rolling blizzard forming in the distant peaks far beyond the plains that was inevitably going to roll into town sometime before morning. “Don’t get me wrong, I really like your family and I appreciate the fact they opened their home for me and just. It’s been great.” 

“But?” Leon prompted, gently, he hoped, coming to stand next to Raihan, peering up at the tense tendon running under his jaw. 

“But it also made me realize something I never knew I didn’t have,” Raihan said, voice low and hoarse, fingers clenching on the fence. “You know where you come from, Lee,” he added, looking down at Leon with a frustrated twitch to his lips. “And I… don’t. I never really thought about it, you know? It’s never been anything I thought about, but now I have and I feel… I don’t know, disconnected, even though nothing has changed, and then I get angry at myself because I didn’t feel that way before coming here. It feels like… implying my family wasn’t good enough, somehow. And that’s bullshit.” 

“Your family loves you dearly, Rai,” Leon said, thinking of the specter he’d seen curled atop Raihan’s childhood home. 

“I _know_ that,” Raihan replied, frowning. “I’ve always known that. That’s not the kind of thing you _ignore_. That’s why it’s hard, to feel this way. It’s dumb.” 

“Feelings aren’t dumb,” Leon recited, lips tilted into a wry smile. “But they do make us do dumb things, sometimes, when we don’t know how to handle them.” 

“I barely remember what my mom looked like,” Raihan whispered, frowning. “My dad died so soon after I was born that I effectively never even met him. I don’t… I never got a chance to _know_ , you know? Where they came from. Who they used to be, before. I didn’t get stories from their youth or pictures of extended family. I don’t even know if I even have extended family. All I know is that when mom got sick there was no one else, so Mrs. Fairweather had to step in.” Raihan swallowed hard and rubbed his eyes with the cuff of his jacket, looking away. “So many things about you suddenly make sense, in the context of your family, Lee. The way you talk, the way you dress, the things you eat. Even the ghost thing is a family thing,” he added, with a little, hiccupping laugh. “It made me wonder what it’d be like, to feel rooted that way.” 

Leon struggled to find the words, because he didn’t know what to say, how to address what was clearly upsetting Raihan. He got it, the gist of it, but it was awkward and from afar, and he didn’t want to offer platitudes when Raihan really needed support. So he swallowed hard and reached out to wrap his arms around him, instead. 

“You’re not a bad person for wanting to know where you come from,” Leon insisted, tightening his hold as he felt Raihan buckle slightly into his arms. “Wanting to know your own history doesn’t mean you don’t love your family, I don’t think. You look after your siblings and always try your best, of course your family knows you love them.” Raihan let out a shuddering breath, and Leon swallowed hard. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say to make it better.” 

Raihan laughed and buried his face further into Leon’s hair. 

“I don’t think there’s anything anyone could say to make it better,” Raihan whispered, tired and resigned. “I think I just… need to get over it.” 

“You know I’m here for you, right?” Leon asked, frowning. “Because I am. And you… you don’t have to apologize for anything. It’s… it’s okay if you need time to sort things out. I freak out about a lot of stuff,” he said, and basked in the fact Raihan snorted in reply, “but that means I get it, if you need to freak out about stuff, sometimes. We’ll figure it out, yeah? Together?” 

“Yeah,” Raihan replied, and stepped back so he could lean in and press a kiss to Leon’s cheek. “Yeah, that sounds wonderful, Lee.” 

Leon looked up at him, words bubbling angrily in the back of his throat, but he forced them down, sent them churning into his gut. He swallowed hard and reached a hand to hold Raihan’s face, thumb caressing his lips. 

“So,” Leon said, hoping to lighten the mood. “When exactly were you planning to tell me you _learned_ to make malpua for me?” 

Raihan had the grace to blush slightly, but then he shrugged. 

“Soon as we got home and I unloaded two weeks’ worth of enforced abstinence on you,” he explained, eyebrows arched. “Figured it was the best way to bribe you to stay in bed all weekend.” 

Leon swallowed hard, his own face hot as he shivered, though not due to the cold. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he said, a little hoarse himself and moaned when Raihan leaned in to kiss him with more teeth than was strictly chaste to do so. 

“Hey,” Raihan said, after they pulled apart, eyes half-lidded. “I love you.” 

Leon’s face twisted into a besotted grin without any input necessary from his brain. 

“I love you too, Rai.” 

* * *

“I suppose this is where I should point out she doesn’t have a pokeball anymore, huh.” 

Leon turned to give Gloria an arched eyebrow, somewhat surprised by that declaration. 

“But you caught her,” Leon replied, frowning. “Didn’t you? Right atop Hammerlocke.” 

“Technically, yes,” Gloria replied, wincing. “But she broke it, a while back.” She shrugged. “That day, in the Weald. It wasn’t the first time Nat tried to… y’know. Make our partnership permanent. Zacian was having none of it, that first time.” 

“So she’s just been… hanging out? Like that?” Leon asked, feeling a little floored by the implications of a wild legendary dog prowling Postwick. 

Then again, all zacian seemed willing to do was nap in warm places and growl in the general direction of Nat’s den. Not exactly threatening, particularly considering how truly powerful she could be, wielding her alternate form. He wasn’t really sure if she could even assume that power now, without a partner. 

“Well, she’s not going to back to sleep in the Weald, if Zamazenta isn’t going with her,” Gloria pointed out. “Hop has a theory that she’s hoping to find a partner of her own. I mean, it’d make sense, right? Since Zamazenta found Hop.” 

“I thought that was supposed to be you,” Leon said, and then realized how rude it sounded. 

Gloria laughed before he could apologize. 

“I had to beat her up to show her I meant business,” she pointed out, “show her I was worthy of helping save her brother.” She gave Leon a significant look. “Hop didn’t have to fight Zamazenta to catch him, Leon. He just… connected with him, when he was vulnerable and scared.” She grinned wryly. “Besides, if I was fated to partner up with anyone, it has to be Nat. He shares my feelings about naps and taking it easy.” 

Leon did not point out he was also quite capable of being absolutely terrifying on command, just like her. 

He turned to look at zacian, who was lying on the welcome mat by the door, watching their conversation with bored disinterest that reminded Leon of the older dragons in the enclosure back home: the quiet dignity that would not stand to be offended. She hadn’t been a big hassle, either, since he’d brought her home with him. She liked finding comfortable places to sleep and be left alone. She ate the same food the rest of his and Raihan’s pokemon ate, without complaint, and even tolerated curious baby dragons and their exploratory climbing up her back without a fuss. 

“Raihan doesn’t mind,” Leon said, crouching down so he was eye-level with her, “if you come stay with us for a while. But Hammerlocke is _very_ different than Postwick, and you don’t have a pokeball to retreat to, if it gets to be too much.” Zacian snorted, as if offended by the notion that anything would be too much for her. “Like I said, you can stay with me if you want. Sort yourself out, it’s okay. But you have to be good, to the babies in our care and the dragons in the Gym and just. There’s a ton of people in Hammerlocke, and they’re going to be very curious about you, since you stand out so much.” He paused and gave her a significant look. “Or you can stay, if you want.” 

Zacian snorted and looked away, which clearly telegraphed her feelings about the matter. 

“I’m sorry,” Gloria said, causing zacian’s ears to twitch and aim at her, even though she didn’t move or turn to look at her. “That things didn’t work out between you and me. You’ll always have a home here, zacian, no matter what, but I hope you find what you’re looking for, out in Hammerlocke.” 

Leon felt a strange déjà vu, and couldn’t quite pin down why, as he watched zacian bow her head and then stand up to full height. She was pretty massive, but she didn’t really command her size very often, seemingly much smaller than she really was. She looked every bit as legendary, right there and then, as she stretched her neck and then tilted her head back, howling. 

Somewhere in Wedgehurst, where Hop was staying at the lab, a howl echoed back, answering. 

“I take it to mean we’re set?” Raihan asked, opening the front door with a wry little smile, their packed-up bags sitting neatly by his feet, and Leon’s parents standing behind him. 

“Yup,” Leon replied, petting alongside zacian’s back as she walked around him, clearly intent on sticking around. “Zacian’s decided to go to Hammerlocke with us.” 

“Cool,” Raihan replied, offering a thumbs up at her. “Hammerlocke will be happy to have you, I’m sure.” 

Zacian barked, tail swishing dramatically in reply. Leon smiled, and then waited for his parents to be done hugging Raihan goodbye – and swallowing back the small freak out because he couldn’t hear what they were telling him, but only hope it wasn’t too bad, considering how red the tip of Raihan’s ears got – before he reached out to offer his own goodbyes. 

“What about your Nan?” Raihan asked, bag thrown over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t… I mean… don’t you need to say goodbye?” 

Leon shrugged. 

“Nan doesn’t do goodbyes,” he explained, ignoring the way his dad snorted loudly. “She says we can all go say goodbye when she dies.” 

Raihan, who’d been nodding along at the explanation, stopped abruptly. 

“Wait,” he said, frowning, “ _when_ she dies?” 

“Well, you know, that’s the final goodbye and all,” Leon said, shrugging. “And she’s promised very solemnly she will not be staying back to haunt anyone.” 

Raihan gaped. 

“Your Nan is _alive_?” 

Leon blinked. 

“Yes?” He frowned. “…you thought she wasn’t?” 

Raihan flushed violently and tugged the hood of his hoodie down to fully hide his face in shame. 

“That’s a hundred you owe me,” Leon’s mum said, nudging Leon’s dad with an elbow. “I told you she got him.” 

“Oh, Rai,” Leon blurted out, reaching out to tug Raihan into a hug as he threatened to spontaneously combust on the spot. “I’m so _sorry_!” 

Leon reckoned Raihan wasn’t likely to live that down any time soon, the poor thing. 


	10. teamwork and growing pains

“Stop that,” Leon said, in the slightly exhausted tones of someone well aware his request was about to go unheeded. 

He realized he sounded exactly like his parents always had, shortly after whatever Sonia’s scheme of the day reached its inevitable, and often disastrous end: he didn’t really believe whatever he was saying would make much of an impact, but he also felt sort of obligated to say something. The thought was amusing but did not reach his face, as he stared at zacian down his nose and pretended he had any hope of shaming the legendary pain in the ass to stop antagonizing haxorus. 

Lying on the floor before his desk, zacian was stretched up lazily, dutifully ignoring haxorus as she swiped repeatedly, clearly angry and in the middle of an outrage tantrum meltdown. Zacian kept not taking a single bit of damage from the onslaught, partly because she was fairy type, and also because she kept going wispy and intangible, like a ghost, right as each strike connected. It was, in short, an exercise in pointlessness. 

Leon was determined to not take it as a metaphor. 

He focused instead on clearing out the last of the paperwork he owed for the week. It wasn’t so bad, really. Hammerlocke had a very tidy filing scheme, and most of what was required to keep track of their work was digital. Leon reckoned that was mostly so that it could all be instantly available at the league servers, and in turn, accessible for Raihan’s rotom. He didn’t have to do his paperwork effectively twice, once in the notebook he liked to carry around clipped to his pokeball belt, and then at the end of the week, tying all those notes into their proper files into his laptop. But he liked handwriting notes and observations, and sometimes he got ideas while he was clearing out the enclosure, but they weren’t necessarily the kind of thing that was worth stopping and going all the way into the staff room to lodge in. And he couldn’t just drag his laptop around, considering the enclosure was a constant micro weather nightmare cycling regularly through sandstorms, thunderstorms, harsh sunlight, and the occasional hail, because Lance’s gift dragonair knew hail and was not afraid to use it to make _everyone_ miserable when it was ticked. Pencil didn’t run the risk of staining anything, so Leon had drilled a little hole at the tip of a pencil, right beneath the eraser, and threaded a small, but relatively strong chain through it, which he’d also tired up to the spiral of his notebook. And when he got an idea or he was tallying numbers – weigh-ins, measurements, food consumption, molting schedules, and whatever other tiny tidbit of caring for dragons he’d never really thought too hard about before he started working at the Gym – he pulled it up and scribbled in without a second thought. 

It wasn’t the most efficient way, maybe, but it worked for him, and Raihan had yet to comment on it, during their performance reviews – the actual performance reviews, where they discussed Leon’s attempts to make himself useful and become a proper asset to Hammerlocke Gym, as opposed to the polite inside-joke euphemism for some very unprofessional desk sex – so Leon was not about to change it. 

By the time he was done updating individual pokemon files in the system, it was lunch time. Raihan was out with Sonia – he and Sonia had been emailing furiously after their trip to Postwick, and something told Leon it wasn’t for the same reason Sonia had been messaging _him_ constantly – exploring the outskirts of the city and the fortifications of the outer wall, and he’d left instructions for everyone to leave early if they were done with their work. It was Friday and still firmly winter, though the snow had mercifully slowed so the dragons in the enclosure were significantly less testy. They had work to do, to prepare for the Gym Challenge come spring, but Leon had been told repeatedly they did not need to rush, on account of them being the _last_ Gym anyone would challenge. Out of the eight weeks of the Gym Challenge, the earliest any trainer had ever made it to Hammerlocke was on weak seven and most only really got there by week eight. They also never really got that many challengers, either: ever since Gordie took over the Gym in Circhester, the last three Gyms of the circuit had been unofficially dubbed The Gauntlet. The siblings had served in Hammerlocke for four years now, and they remembered at least one year where _no one_ made it through. 

Deep down, Leon felt profoundly responsible for that. One of his favorite talking points as Champion had been his standing invitation to any and all trainers around Galar to come challenge him and show him how strong they were, because he truly wanted Galar trainers to be the strongest. But it was only now, after spending months teaching beginners the ropes and actually _encouraging_ people to try, that he understood how counterproductive his status as undefeated had been. It was just like what Raihan had told him, way back when, when he’d first met the triplets and he flattened them in battle without a second thought: some people took that as a challenge, an invitation to get stronger and be better… but those people were the minority. Most people saw that kind of gap, between themselves and the people standing between them and victory, and told themselves they couldn’t possibly cross it, that there was no point in even trying. The sheer number of times he’d had to explain that he too had lost, many times even, before he became Champion was a little heartbreaking when he sat down to think about it. 

When he and Gloria retired, Leon made one last stipulation to the guidelines about the title of Champion. It became, retroactively, a yearly title, rather than something to be defended. It was a title to be given to the strongest trainer of a given year, an award to their performance in the Gym Challenge, but definitely not a lifestyle. Retroactively, he was now Champion fifteen times, as opposed to only the one, and Gloria had the one to her name. This upcoming Gym Challenge would be the one to show if the change took root and really made a difference, though given the endorsement request volumes that Mia had shared in their last breakfast together, it seemed to be that this might be the largest Gym Challenge in a few years. 

Then, of course, Leon remembered that the increased number of endorsement requests meant that Raihan had even more work to do, since he insisted he had to meet, interview and review every single one of them personally, before giving them a letter of endorsement. It was one of those bits that he refused to delegate to his Gym Trainers, like overseeing repairs and maintenance of the Keep or meetings with the powerplant people. Raihan was dearly loved in Hammerlocke, and every Gym Challenge hopeful that lodged a request in the Gym knew part of the process was to impress Raihan in person. Aria, who was responsible for most of their PR and social media presence, as a Gym, independent from Raihan’s personal accounts, liked to print out comments and posts of every single endorsement letter celebration and post them all in one of the large corkboards in the staff room. So far, there were twenty-nine. 

He stared over at the corkboard, studying the little notes on each of them, and then sighed. It was still almost four months away, he could wait a bit longer before melting into a ball of anxiety about it. 

He stood up from his desk, sliding his laptop close and turned off for the day, and walked around to see where haxorus was taking a nap, pressed up against zacian’s side, clearly worn out. Zacian herself was very disinterested in this fact and instead stared up at Leon with those eerily smart eyes of hers, as if she could see right through him. Leon shrugged eloquently and recalled haxorus back into her ultraball, and then clipped it back onto his belt without even having to think about it. 

“C’mon, one last thing to do before we’re done,” Leon promised, leaning in, knees bent, so he could pet zacian’s head. 

She allowed this for a moment, before she yawned wide and stood up, clearly ready to follow him wherever he was headed. It was surprisingly easy to have an unbound legendary dog trailing after him all the time, it turned out. She literally just went wherever he went and found herself places to sit down and people watch outside the Stadium, or very quickly commandeered the best napping spots inside the Gym and the house. It was… it was almost mundane, in a way, and it reminded him of far too many conversations with Gloria, about the upkeep of a certain poison doom noodle she called her own. 

Legendary pokemon were, after all, only pokemon when you got down to it. 

Leon walked out of the staff room, turned right and pressed his hand against the wall. So long as he didn’t take his hand off the wall, he could sort of navigate his way around the staff wing of the Keep. It was harder than it seemed. He kept wanting to pull his hand off to tuck his hair behind his ear or to fix his hat or his belt or any number of things, but he had to restrain himself and keep his hand on the wall. If he kept his hand on the wall, regardless of what instinct told him, he always managed to make his way to the library archives. Seb had been reassigned to bibliography duty, the week prior, which meant Leon was heading a lot more classes than usual – but he _could_ and no one questioned him being able to do it – to compensate. Camilla and Aria were out for the day, having finished their own work much earlier in the day, and then having flown out to Circhester for a fashion show they wanted to attend. Raihan was out. Most of the maintenance crew for both the Stadium and the enclosure were done for the day. So at least on this wing of the Keep, it was really only him and Seb left. 

After a few minutes of basking in the inherently creepy air of an empty Keep, and the murmurs of stories and ghosts nestled deep into the very stones of Hammerlocke, Leon finally made his way into the library archives. The staff room was a repurposed banquet hall, tall ceilings and several hearths in its walls. But it was dwarfed entirely by the sprawling library that stretched three floors underground and at least four above. Raihan had once told him he was the keeper of Galar’s history, but Leon had never truly grasped what that meant, until he’d seen the archives with it’s neat rows upon rows of books and texts that seemed to Leon would take someone several lifetimes to read. 

“How’s it going?” Leon asked, coming to lean on the railing of the grand staircase that circled around the room and connected all floors, looking down at where Seb was busy sorting out a pile of books. 

“It’s going,” Seb replied, stepping away from the table where he’d centralized his efforts, hands on his hips. “I’m thinking about calling it quits for today, honestly.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Leon said, laughing as Seb gave him a wry look over his shoulder. “Don’t suppose I can bribe you with lunch to do me a favor before you go, though…” 

Seb closed his laptop and started walking up the stairs, to meet Leon. 

“The hakamo-o?” He asked, halfway there. 

One of the hakamo-o in the enclosure had gotten into a petty squabble with a haxorus a few weeks back and the end result was a nasty crunch on his side that, despite their best attempts, had gotten infected. It wasn’t terribly serious, but he needed medicine and proper rest, so he’d been quarantined away from the enclosure. 

“It should be the last time,” Leon said, nodding, “he’s doing really well, but Nurse Joy was very insistent he had to complete the antibiotics treatment. Just to be sure.” 

“I can’t believe you need me to do this for you,” Seb groused, but in a teasing tone, making sure Leon was looking before he rolled his eyes mockingly. 

“You’re good with syringes,” Leon pointed out, half grin tugging at his lips as he followed Seb, no longer worried about having to keep track where he was or how to get to where he needed to go. 

“Yeah, well, you should be too,” Seb pointed out, shaking his head. Leon shrugged in response. “So, what? You use gel instead?” He asked, as they reached the quarantine ward, and he went about fussing with gloves and preparing the shot for hakamo-o. 

Leon snorted. 

“Nope,” he said, shrugging, “injection every three months.” 

Seb had a glass of medicine upside down and a syringe stabbed through the little plastic cap, slowly draining it. He looked away for a second to give Leon a surprised look. 

“Tell me you don’t go to the hospital for that,” he said, in the tones of one who was judging and didn’t particularly care if the subject of his judging knew it. 

“Oh god, no,” Leon laughed, shaking his head to mask the little shudder that ran down his spine. “I hate hospitals, they make me really uncomfortable.” There were lots of dead echoes in hospitals, and most of them were not particularly happy. He couldn’t step into one without immediately being assaulted by a migraine. He shrugged. “No, I’ve got a nurse appointment.” 

“Seriously?” Seb asked, flicking a finger against the body of the syringe to burst the air bubbles trapped inside. “You’ve kept a nurse appointment every three months for the past…” 

“Seventeen years,” Leon added, helpfully. 

“ _Why?_ ” Seb asked, grabbing a handful of cotton balls and a bottle of alcohol in his free hand, and brandishing the prepared syringe in the other. “It’s not that hard to learn how to do it yourself.” He paused. “ _I_ do it myself.” 

“Because needles make me faint,” Leon explained, walking ahead of him to open the door into the temporary enclosure. 

“Shut up,” Seb replied, standing in the doorway while Leon deftly wrestled the raging hakamo-o to the ground, holding him in place so Seb could step in and apply the shot. “They don’t.” 

“Absolutely do, I swear,” Leon replied and then bent down, pressing his face against the hakamo-o’s one, whispering reassurances while he pinned it to the ground. 

Seb moved with dexterous efficiency: he parted the scales along the shoulder with delicate fingers to bare the softer scales beneath, rubbed them with alcohol and then stabbed the syringe in place as quickly and painlessly as he could. Leon, mercifully, was too busy whispering reassurances to the growling mass of cranky dragon beneath him, to really pay attention and see it happen. Which was probably for the best. 

“See? All done,” Leon said, slowly shifting until he was sitting on the floor of the quarantine enclosure and the hakamo-o was cradled in his arms. “You did so good! Such a brave boy!” He added, fingers scratching along the edges of the scales in its belly, to soothe it from the manhandling. It purred when Leon rubbed along the already forming scars from the crunch. “Just one more week out here, to make sure you’re okay and then you can go back home with the others. I bet they’re all dying to hear how brave and strong you are.” 

Leon kept petting him until it turned around and caught Leon’s jaw in its mouth, not biting, but warning. Acknowledgment almost. Leon laughed and let it go, and then kept sitting on the floor for a moment longer, just watching it walk over to the nest it’d made for itself against the furthest wall of the holding area. After a moment, once he was sure he wasn’t going to get attacked the moment he turned his back on it, Leon stood up and calmly walked out of the enclosure. Seb was waiting for him, having already disposed of the used syringe and the assorted materials. 

“It’s just a pinch, Leon,” Seb said, continuing the conversation right where they’d left off. 

“Not arguing with you,” Leon laughed, stretching as they walked down the corridor, circling around the main enclosure – Leon usually just cut through it to get out, mostly because he couldn’t hope to navigate the circling corridors without getting hopelessly lost – but he wasn’t complaining, considering last he’d been there, Hubris was throwing a tantrum and the entirety of the enclosure was being buffeted by a massive sandstorm. “But the moment you press a needle to my skin, I swoon like one of those lovestruck maidens with the heaving bosoms in those novels Camilla would murder us both for pointing out she reads.” He laughed at the wry look Seb gave him. “Just… bam, down I go, like a sack of bricks.” 

“Are you trying to tell me,” Seb said, leading them down a near pitch black corridor that served as a shortcut of sorts, but that Leon had never been able to successfully find on his own, “that the one true weakness of the formerly undefeatable champion, the mysterious terror of Hammerlocke,” Leon interrupted with a loud, mocking snort, just as they turned left and found themselves standing right outside their changing rooms, “it’s that you’re scared of needles?” 

Rather than acknowledge the latest dumb title tabloids had seen fit to give him – apparently someone had sneaked in and gotten some blurry photos of Leon and Raihan’s weekly battle, and the fact Leon was using mostly ghosts in those photos had people speculating like mad all-over social media – Leon shrugged expressively and held open the door for Seb. 

“It’s super effective, every time.” 

They walked to the left side of the room, where their lockers were. Leon opened his and pulled out his bag and the spare clothes in it. In the beginning, he’d been amused at the implication that he’d go through about a uniform a week, on average, but that was before he knew how frequent weather hazards were in his line of work. He sat on the bench diving the two rows of lockers and stared morosely at the fact his leggings were already torn in places. 

“You could wear pants,” Seb pointed out teasingly, watching Leon poke a finger into a hole right above his knee. “Or join Spikemuth. I hear they dig torn leggings as part of their uniforms.” 

“I like my leggings, thank you very much,” Leon retorted, tilting his head back mockingly. “I don’t judge your uniform choices.” He turned to look at Seb, to try and point out something to demonstrate his point, and found Seb standing there, shirtless, looking challengingly at him. Leon blinked. “I didn’t know they made Hammerlocke-themed binders.” 

Seb looked rather pleased with himself. 

“My favorite shop just released a Gym themed collection,” he explained, folding up his shirt and throwing it into the depths of his locker. He paused and gave Leon a conspiratorial look. “But wait,” he said, “there’s more.” 

He tugged at the underside to show Leon that the inside fabric was patterned in interlocking goomies. 

“I’ve never been more jealous in my entire life,” Leon replied, sincerely, and then grinned when Seb burst out laughing. 

“C’mon,” Seb said, tugging a clean shirt over his head. “You owe me food.” 

Leon grinned. 

“That I do, yes.” 

* * *

After parting ways with Seb, Leon headed home. 

Well, he tried to. 

He ended up at the Vault instead, which was, literally, on the other side of town. That happened sometimes, and he’d made peace with it. And since he wasn’t in a real hurry, and it was still relatively early, he figured it was worth a shot to check if Raihan was still inspecting the stretch of outer wall nearby. Maybe Sonia was around and they could all go out and eat dinner together, in the spirit of deescalating whatever argument they’d gotten into – Leon was at this point certain that it was physically impossible for Raihan and Sonia to be left to their own devices in the same room, and not have the conversation derail into an argument somehow. It wasn’t mean, either, they just had radically different approaches to history and the preservation thereof, and very strong feelings to go along with those approaches. 

Leon still didn’t get what most of it was about, honestly. 

No one had asked his opinion – and so he’d wisely refrained from voicing it out loud – but he didn’t really understand the fixation with history both his boyfriend and his best friend had. Sonia was determined to drag out the truth, kicking and screaming if necessary, and the fact it was buried under three thousand years of half-remembered, half-forgotten stories wasn’t going to stop her. Raihan cared very little for _the truth_ , in the sense that he valued those three thousand years of history between what happened then, and now. He wanted to preserve what had been built since, and even if it was rooted in something other than the precise truth, it _was_ true in itself, because people had made it so. 

Mostly, from what Leon understood, the heart of their spat was that Sonia was certain there was a lower level to the Hammerlocke Vault, an older layer where the original story was preserved, uncensored, but to get to it would require the Vault to endure significant structural damage. Sonia insisted they deserved to know the truth, and Raihan was reluctant to lose what history they had, on a gamble that something might be uncovered. 

Leon didn’t get it. 

But then, Leon could hear the whispers and the murmurs, and to him history wasn’t words on a page or stone chipped into a particular shape. History was lives lived and the echoes they left behind, once they were gone. Laughter and tears and joy and despair: history was _alive_ in the heart of the ghosts people were often too scared to look too closely at. But he supposed he was biased like that. He loved the constant, lowkey hum in the back of his head, that anywhere he was, he could find a thread to pull and a whole new story to unravel. 

“It must be weird,” Leon said, looking over at zacian as she walked by his side, “seeing the same places, three thousand years apart.” 

Zacian looked at him sideways, not turning to face him, and then stopped just long enough to yawn in reply. It made Leon laugh. For all Sonia and Raihan were fussing about history and how to preserve it, the ones who’d actually lived through it – zacian, zamazenta and nat – were very uncaring of it. It did not escape Leon’s notice that Sonia was trying to dig out truths in Hammerlocke, as opposed to grilling Hop and Gloria for whatever their partners might still remember. But then, she cared about what had happened just after the first darkest day was averted. 

It couldn’t be emphasized enough, how much Leon didn’t get it. 

Just before he could reach the drawbridge and head out to try and find Raihan and Sonia along the outer wall, Leon got ambushed by a small mob of fans. Most of them were kids who’d just sent in their paperwork to join the Gym Challenge for the first time, since the public pokemon battle park was just beyond the drawbridge and most of Hammerlocke’s future talent liked to hangout and battle into their own ranked unofficial league. The triplets had once told Leon they had learned to battle pokemon there, when they were kids, though he’d never been able to build up the nerve and ask Raihan if he too had learned battling there. It was the kind of thing Leon would have loved to be a part of, when he was nine and suddenly aware that pokemon battles were what he wanted to dedicate himself to for the rest of his life. 

But there hadn’t been a local league like that, back home, because there had only been him and Sonia in miles and miles around, and a league of two is really just a pretentious rivalry. 

Leon did his best to encourage the kids, though. He smiled and answered questions and autographed league cards – there was a twinge of something in his chest, when he realized most of the cards were from his Gym Trainer run, as opposed to vintage Champion ones – without complaint. Zacian plopped herself at his feet and graciously allowed herself to be pet and cooed and ooh-ed at, though it never escaped Leon’s notice that she eyed every single person she came close to, passing silent, inexorable judgment on them. 

He wondered what would happen, when she found what she was looking for, what kind of person would they be. 

Then a small girl, maybe seven or eight, threw a question at him, about doubles, and the next thing Leon knew, he was in the pitch, explaining this or that strategy, coaching them about specific styles… and that’s how Raihan and Sonia found him, crouching by the edge of the arena, sketching a battle plan on the loose gravel with a stick, surrounded by three dozen kids soaking in every word he spoke. 

“What’s this? What’s this? Remedial lessons? Outside the Gym?” Raihan asked, in the booming, playful voice he used whenever he was doing public speaking. 

“Something like that!” Leon replied, grinning as his audience immediately clustered around Raihan, eyes bright with adoration. 

“Oh, oh, is that so?” Raihan asked, grinning lopsidedly, one fang on display. “Good! Who’s going to come challenge me for a badge this year?” He laughed as hands shot up eagerly. “And the rest of you, maybe next year? Yeah? Good!” Raihan growled at them playfully, hands raised and curled like mock-claws. “Hammerlocke Trainers are all fierce like dragons, yeah? Lemme see!” 

Leon grinned as their audience mimicked the gesture, trying their hardest to show how fierce they were, even though not a single one of them was taller than Raihan’s thigh. It was pretty adorable. 

“Your boyfriend is infuriating,” Sonia informed Leon, offering a hand to help hoist him back upright as Raihan signed league cards and took selfies with anyone who wanted them. “I hope you know.” 

Leon grinned cheekily as Raihan hoisted a small girl up and sat her on his shoulder for a selfie. 

“Because he’s absolutely amazing with kids and you can’t be angry at him while he’s being cute?” He asked, eyebrows arched. 

Sonia scoffed. 

“No,” she snorted, and then shook her head. “I mean, yes. ” She sighed. “But besides that.” 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Leon asked, as Raihan got further grilled by very curious, very excited children who were not in the least bit shy about talking to him. 

“I mean… sort of?” Sonia shrugged. “We came to an agreement, at least.” 

“Truce?” Leon asked, squinting at her slightly. 

Sonia shrugged. 

“Ceasefire.” 

But before Leon could ask for clarification, Raihan was there, curling an arm around his shoulders and leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, so Leon reckoned it could wait. 

* * *

Raihan was writing a book. 

Not about dragons, either, but a relatively comprehensive bibliography on the history of Hammerlocke. It wasn’t meant to be a direct commentary on Sonia’s own book about the history of Galar, but more… a complementing viewpoint. Leon still didn’t get it, but he understood this meant Raihan had yet another thing to work on, on top of everything else. And Raihan _wanted_ to write it, too, but he’d never had a reason to that didn’t feel terribly self-indulgent. So it was less outright writing a book and more like editing together about ten years of Raihan’s observations on the history of the Keep that he’d never had anywhere to put. Until now. 

“Oh, _fuck_ you,” Raihan groaned, back arched and hands digging into the pillows, nearly buckling Leon off his back entirely. 

“Later,” Leon teased, lips twitching in amusement, “if you’re good.” 

Raihan looked at him, face half hidden by his hair, but before he could retort anything, Leon dug his thumbs into the knotted muscles right at the base of his neck and the sound he made was barely human. Leon ignored the hissing and spitting, and kept kneading until he popped a particularly hard knot and Raihan let out a sob of relief, slumping into the bed bonelessly. Leon leaned in to press a kiss at the edge of Raihan’s undercut, right behind his ear, and grinned at the tiny, happy whine he got for his efforts. He ran his hands along the expanse of Raihan’s back a few more times, just to make sure everything felt right, and then shifted from his perch on Raihan’s hips, to lie down on him, like a human blanket. 

It was nice. 

Leon tucked his chin against Raihan’s shoulder and focused on listening to him breathe. Raihan’s breathing slowed into a nap, after a moment, and it was _nice_. 

“Where did you learn that?” Raihan asked, a small eternity later, vowels slurred as he burrowed a bit deeper into the bed. 

“Personal trainer,” Leon replied, chuckling. 

“Your personal trainer laid on you like this?” Raihan asked, shifting just enough to tilt his head so he could look at Leon’s face. 

And there was that tilt in his voice, for all it was a contented drawl, that let Leon know he was teasing, but the perpetually jealous, irrational monster curled up in a corner of Leon’s brain twitched in acknowledgement to that. He leaned in to press his face against Raihan’s, grinning. 

“No,” he replied, pressing his lips to the corner of Raihan’s jaw. “That’s just me indulging temptation, now that I’ve got you all nice and helpless here.” 

Raihan made a rumbling noise and let himself melt down a bit more into the bed, eyes not even bothering to open. 

“And to think,” he said, aiming for flippant and instead landing straight into proper freaking out. Leon would know, he was the resident expert on that, after all. “We’re expecting hatchlings this week.” 

Leon was quiet for a moment. 

“…would it help, if I took care of that?” He asked, slowly, almost hesitant, because he didn’t want to overstep, but taking care of hatchlings on top of preparations for the Gym Challenge and writing a book sounded like the sort of thing that was going to drive Raihan nuts. 

“It’s a lot of work, though,” Raihan whispered, “setting them up for molting, and everything. You have to be glued to them until it’s clear they’re going to make it.” He swallowed hard. “And not all of them make it, either.” 

Leon took a moment to appreciate the fact Raihan still refused to let him throw himself head first into things without thinking, because at least that meant one of them was sensible. Sometimes. 

“I can do that,” Leon promised, raising a hand to finger the ropes of Raihan’s hair, tugging on it teasingly before he shifted his fingers to scratch at the base of the undercut, just the way Raihan liked it best. “I can work with the others, too, to free up space for you to work on your book.” 

“I should wait until after the Gym Challenge,” Raihan said, nuzzling his face against his pillow. “This isn’t the right time.” 

Leon frowned. 

“But you want to do it now,” he said, nudging Raihan gently. “You have the idea of what to write and how to do it now. Who knows if you’ll still want to do it, after the Gym Challenge. You said you’d been putting it off for a while now.” 

“Well,” Raihan sighed, “I don’t even know if I can write a whole book about this. Having published a handful of journal articles isn’t the same, and history is definitely not my wheelhouse.” 

“Sonia thinks it’s definitely your wheelhouse,” Leon pointed out, one eyebrow arched. “I think yours are the only critiques she’s really cared about since she published her book. And she quotes you a lot in her recent papers, too.” Raihan shifted then, turning around so he was lying on his back, so Leon had to shift with him, sitting up on his hips, to avoid getting shuffled off the bed entirely. He shrugged in the face of the look Raihan was giving him. “I read her stuff. She’s working hard and I wouldn’t know what the hell she’s talking about half the time, if I didn’t.” 

Raihan looked up at him, hair sprawled on the pillow like a halo, and hands holding onto Leon’s thighs, almost by their own accord. He bit the inside of his lip. 

“I’m scared I’m going to neglect stuff and it’s not even going to be worth it,” Raihan admitted, voice low. “Because you know how I get, when I’m writing.” Leon did, in fact, know: Raihan curled up with his laptop in the living room, writing feverishly for a couple weekends in a row, until he had something he considered ‘good enough’, though he still wouldn’t let Leon read it. “This is gonna take a couple months, at least, not just a few stray weekends.” 

Leon reached down to tug Raihan’s hands away from his thighs and instead pulled them up so he could press a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Do you want to write your book?” He asked, expression, he hoped, supportive. 

Raihan swallowed hard. 

“Yeah.” 

Leon pressed his smile against Raihan’s fingers and then let go of his hands so he could lean in and kiss the corner of Raihan’s lips. 

“So write your book, Leader Raihan,” he whispered, as Raihan wrapped his arms around his back and pulled him close, “Hammerlocke Gym’s got your back.” 

It was well after dark, when Raihan finally let go of him, and only so they could order takeout for dinner. 

Leon didn’t mind one bit. 

* * *

Leon did not, as a rule, get angry easily. 

He wasn’t an angry person. It took concentrated effort to get him anywhere near that range of emotion, and to be honest, thus far, only Piers had ever really tried to get him to snap. And even then, he hadn’t really been angry at _Piers_. He considered Piers a dear friend at this point, really. Since starting to visit Dr. Vale every week, he’d also had a few attempts at exploring what made him angry, but he hadn’t been entirely successful. Leon wasn’t, on the whole, an angry person. 

And then Mia called, while he was in the midst of rummaging through a supply closet, looking for a fish bowl to put in the newly hatched baby goomy almost slipping through his fingers. 

“Technically, I should have called Raihan,” she’d said, blissfully unaware of Leon’s precarious attempts to keep the goomy from literally slipping right through his fingers. “But you did mention he was taking something of a time off, and I reckon you’d want to know either way.” 

The four eggs in the incubator room hatched into goomies. Which was great, in so much Leon wouldn’t have to worry about setting up molting boxes for any of them, given that goomies were the only dragons in the world that _didn’t_ actually molt. On account of not having any scales. What wasn’t so great was the fact they were eminently delicate, ridiculously weak, voraciously hungry and perpetually dehydrated. Leon found them a good-sized fish tank that he filled up with purified water, and then placed the four newborn dragons in it. He left the tank on his desk and asked Seb to keep an eye on it, as the baby goomies floated about and pressed their faces against the glass, like delightful little troublemakers that Leon already knew were going to slather everything in goo for the foreseeable future. 

Then he’d gone to meet Mia, out in one of the large hangars of the international airport, and had something of a breakthrough, in regard to anger. 

“We didn’t want to risk cutting it free until you got here,” Mia was saying, standing next to the group of smugglers tied up and sitting on the ground at her feet, “since it’s understandably upset.” 

Leon looked away from the small druddigon roughly chained to the floor of the crate they’d attempted to smuggle him in, past the infected gashes along its limbs and the broken wing awkwardly folded against its side. Instead, he turned his eyes to the people responsible, disdain and contempt boiling in his gut, and came to the somewhat underwhelming realization that, _yeah_ , he was angry, actually. 

Viciously, so. 

“Leon.” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“Right,” he said, forcing himself to look away before he did something wholly uncharacteristic and possibly violent, “sorry. Is it just the druddigon or were any other—” 

“There’s a duralodon, too,” Mia said, nodding at a much smaller crate, and fuck it all, the moment Leon saw _rust_ , he officially graduated from angry into positively livid. “And there’s roughly two dozen other pokemon, but no other dragons, no.” 

Leon did not grind his teeth. 

“Hammerlocke will gladly shelter them, of course,” he said, instead, cool and professional and not at all hissing and spitting like he wanted to. 

“Thank you,” Mia said, reaching a hand to touch his arm reassuringly. “I know they’re in good hands, now.” 

Leon did not feel reassured at all, sadly. 

* * *

The duralodon was three weeks old, at best, and bawled miserably while they cleared away the rust along its face, and then he bawled miserably some more, just because. Leon didn’t blame him, really. He eventually calmed down enough, but only so long as Leon was holding it. The moment Leon disappeared from his field of view, the desperate crying started all over again. The worst part was the realization that his own tears had caused the rust lines in the first place, quickly followed by the fact none of the duralodon nests in the Lake of Outrage were disturbed. That meant someone had _bred_ their own duralodon, which they could have only gotten from Hammerlocke itself, and then sold the egg to smugglers. That was a whole can of anger Leon was not yet ready to open, and besides, Camilla had volunteered to track down that lead. 

Still, even with all that, the duralodon was the easy one. A fifth baby to raise, alongside the fish tank of goomies, that was all. 

The druddigon, though, that was something else entirely. 

Textbook case of abuse, all around: she was feral and violent and all set to lash out at the smallest perceived thread. It’d taken Leon nearly an hour to coax her into letting him put her in an ultraball, and Nurse Joy had been… about as happy as Leon was, about the whole affair, when the tests came in. The fact she needed to be in quarantine didn’t make Leon feel any better, so he tried to spend a few hours every day, visiting and talking to her. He couldn’t just take two hours off for that, though, considering all the extra work they were all doing to afford Raihan time to work on his book, so he instead took to doing his paperwork while keeping her company. She got very upset every time someone came into her enclosure, either to change her water, give her food, or administer medicine, so Leon instead sat on the floor outside her door, typing away on his laptop and casually commenting on what he was doing. Zacian often lay next to him, a warm presence that kept the chilly corridor from getting entirely too cold. 

And it was fine. 

It was fine. 

Raihan was locked up in his tower or the archives, and though Leon told him about the newest additions to the rescue, he spared him most of the worst details. Raihan would feel guilty, taking time off, when there were dragons to look after. And he deserved his time off, he deserved to write his book. Leon could deal with this, could do this for him. They all could. 

“Lee.” 

Leon looked up at the call, ignoring the sleepy baby duralodon trying his best to crawl under his shirt in fright, and blinked at the image of Raihan at the doorway into corridor. He spared a moment to wonder what he looked like, sprawled on the floor, laptop at hand, legendary dog at one side and tank of goomies in the other. 

“Hi,” he said, offering a small, hopeful smile. 

“So,” Raihan said, walking in, bag of something that smelled wonderful in his arms, “I finished a whole chapter and decided to treat myself to lunch for it. But then I remembered you can’t exactly go out for lunch right now, since you’re… rearing.” He walked over to sit next to Leon, across the tank of baby goomies that blew air bubbles at him when he approached. “Lunch without you isn’t much of a treat, though. So, here I am. You hungry?” 

“Lunch sounds lovely,” Leon replied, relaxing against the wall. 

And despite it all – despite duralodon’s earnest efforts to burrow straight under Leon’s shirt, despite the unwieldy tank of goomies, despite the rogue legendary pretending hard to be nothing more than a spoiled yamper, despite the druddigon eying them warily from the depths of her enclosure – _despite it all_ , it was indeed very lovely. 

Raihan was worth it, after all. 

* * *

“I hate that,” Leon said suddenly, face buried into the charizard beanbag in Dr. Vale’s office, that he adamantly refused to consider had been bought specifically for him. “Just…” 

“Go on,” Dr. Vale said, voice kind and patient, sitting on his very normal chair, holding onto his very normal notebook, and as always never really commenting on Leon’s habit to all but roll around the room while he was chewing on a thought. 

“That thing I do,” Leon said, looking at him through a curtain of hair, from where he’d ruffled it all in annoyance, even though that meant he was going to spend a good half hour combing it back into place in the bathroom once their session was done. He made a noise of frustration. “You know, where I… get something? And it makes sense? I understand why and how and everything! But then I’m just… I still get upset.” 

On Tuesday, Leon had finally graduated the previous clutch of dragon babies into the enclosure proper. He’d spent most of the day sitting out there with them, conducting the last round of introductions, before the jangmo-o and the axew were swiftly adopted by their respective families. He’d spent a week watching video of Raihan doing similar introductions in the past – one of the great advantages of Raihan’s rotom’s habit to record everything Raihan did, at that – and he’d doublechecked the theory at least twenty times, before he’d followed each step to the letter. 

It had gone well. 

It had gone wonderfully well, in fact. 

To celebrate, Leon had gone home early – with his clingy duralodon and his fish tank of goomies, of course – and installed himself in the kitchen to cook a properly celebratory meal. Everything had been so crazy, the last few weeks, that he hadn’t had a chance to properly cook at his leisure. He’d missed it, and more than that, he missed eating dinner with Raihan. But while Leon had tried his best to make a good celebratory dinner, he hadn’t, crucially, told Raihan he was doing so. 

And that happened to be one of the days Raihan ended up not coming home at all, caught in a research dive in the archives. 

It wasn’t Raihan’s fault, and Leon understood that. Raihan had been going on research sprees more often than not, as he’d decided to finish putting the book together before the start of the Gym Challenge. There was absolutely no way Raihan could have known, because Leon didn’t tell him. And he _knew_ that. He understood. 

But he’d still had a fantastical meltdown in the aftermath of it, and no matter what Dr. Vale said, _that_ didn’t feel like progress. 

Nothing did. 

“Sometimes,” Dr. Vale said, head tilted to the side, “when we’ve bottled up things for a long time, a very small thing can trigger an outburst that might seem unjustified. But it’s not necessarily the case.” 

“I’ve been doing what I’m supposed to,” Leon said, and hated the way it sounded like whining, when he put the feelings to words. “I’ve done everything _right_.” _So why don’t I feel better already?_ Leon ruffled his own hair a little more. “I’m sorry.” 

“Leon,” Dr. Vale said, in that kind, soothing voice that Leon had initially assumed he was going to hate, since he loathed few things more than being condescended to, but which turned out to be exactly as soothing as intended, on account of the way Dr. Vale always treated him. “You’re an astoundingly responsible person. You will do what needs to be done, regardless of your feelings on the matter, if for no other reason that he fact you can. It’s in no small part why people tend to flock to you, in times of need.” 

“I just want to help,” Leon whispered, sitting upright on the floor, one arm thrown over the beanbag somewhat despondently. “I like helping people and fixing things. It feels… it’s not about _me_ , but… but I like being useful.” 

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Dr. Vale replied, expression unspeakably kind. “But I fear sometimes you focus so much on doing what needs to be done, that you don’t give yourself space to do things just because you want to. You’re helping Raihan with his book, and all that comes with that, but you’re not leaving enough space for you to do things… _for you_. And it’s normal that, in those rare instances you indulge yourself, if things don’t go the way you expected, you’d be frustrated.” 

“It’s childish, though,” Leon insisted, rubbing at his nose. “I should have just told Raihan to come home.” 

“In that very specific instance, yes,” Dr. Vale agreed, leaning on the armrest of his chair. “But more generally, I think we should work on finding things you can do, explicitly for you.” 

Leon stared at him for a moment, and even now, after everything, he still felt that twinge of anxiety that he was going to be met with disappointment, but as always, the moment passed and Dr. Vale continued to look at him encouragingly instead. 

“I don’t…” Leon began, worrying the hem of his shirt, “I’m not sure I know where to start.” 

“Well, you can always start by spending time with friends,” Dr. Vale offered, head tilted sideways. “Not because you need to _help_ them, or because they asked you to, but simply because you want to enjoy their company.” 

Leon remembered, months and months ago, almost a small eternity it felt like, Mia making a quip about him only reaching out to people when he needed something from them. He’d felt awful, about that realization, but upon closer inspection, perhaps it wasn’t so much that he only reached out to people when he had a use for them… so much as he didn’t reach out to people if they didn’t ask things of him _first_. 

“I can do that,” Leon said, still twisting the thought in his head, not sure where it fit, exactly. “I think.” 

“Good, we can talk about how it goes, next week,” Dr. Vale replied, nodding. “And speaking of follow ups, how is the search for a hobby coming along?” 

Leon stared a bit blankly. 

“Ah, _shit_ ,” he said, utterly candid, “I knew I’d forgotten something.” 

It wasn’t so bad, at least: he made Dr. Vale laugh. 

* * *

Sorting napkins for a wedding turned out to be mind-numbingly dull. 

Sonia had warned him it was going to be exactly that, when he’d offered to tag along, and gave him multiple chances to walk away from the whole thing. Leon was determined to stay. So they sat in the living room of Sonia’s apartment atop the lab in Wedgehurst, and stared at a sea of napkin designs in all humanly possible shades of blue. Duralodon was on the carpet floor, propped up against Leon’s leg, playing with Sonia’s yamper. Leon’s tank of goomies was on the dining room, from where they were busy watching them, faces pressed hard against the glass. 

Despite how boring it was to stack the various designs into piles, and how insane it seemed to him that people had come up with so many ridiculous designs for _napkins_ , Leon found himself enjoying the afternoon intensely. 

Mostly because without anything dire to keep them on topic, their chatter got loose and disconnected, comfortable. 

It reminded of Leon of the day-long conversations they used to have, when they were small. 

“You’re going to be there, right?” Sonia asked, suddenly, after their previous thread of thought died into comfortable silence. “My wedding, I mean.” 

Leon blinked. 

“Of course I’m going to be there,” he said, “nothing short of you asking me not to go, would make me miss your wedding.” 

“Because I have forgiven you _a lot_ of things,” Sonia said, not looking at him. “And I’d forgive you for all of them, all over again, but I will not forgive you, if you miss my wedding.” 

Leon put the napkins he was fiddling with on the low table and then reached out to pull Sonia into his arms. They shifted about, until her face was tucked into his throat and her arms were wrapped tightly around his back. 

“I have been a not great friend,” Leon said, pressing the words into the crown of her head. “And it wasn’t on purpose, but that’s just the truth of it. And you’ve put up with it, and called me out on it, and I want you to know that I’m trying to be better.” 

“You have,” she said, with a sniff. “And I appreciate it. But you’re my best man, Leon, and if you stand me up, they will _never_ find the body.” 

She said so with such vehemence that he couldn’t help but laugh. And the heart of the matter, the true fundamental baseline of their friendship was thus: if Leon laughed, so did Sonia. Always had, hopefully, always would. 

“Dick,” Sonia sniffled, as her laughter subsided, face pressed against Leon’s chest. 

It only made Leon laugh harder at the absurdity of it. 

It felt kinda nice, actually. 

Then duralodon got bored and crushed one of the table’s legs between its claws, and the last three hours of sorting basically went down the drain as the napkins scattered all over the floor. 

“Whoops.” 

* * *

Two weeks before the inauguration of the Gym Challenge, the doors to the staff room flung open all of a sudden. 

This was significant because it was the large, heavy, wooden double doors that Leon had never seen open, as opposed to the sensible door that led to the corridor. They flung open like they were the thin window panes that were popular in the fancier districts of Wyndon, and not half a ton of ancient wood and wrought iron. 

“Leon!” Cried out a thundering, melodramatic voice, “I demand a rematch.” 

It was unfortunately a very familiar voice. Leon, who’d been caught right in the middle of biting into a meatball sandwich because it was Aria’s turn to choose where they ordered lunch from, found himself cursing into a mouthful of tomato sauce. It didn’t escape his notice that Raihan, Aria, Camila and Seb were all looking at him with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement as he swallowed and made a show of cleaning his face. In the meantime, their rude visitor – not to say straight up intruder, since this was the staff area of the Gym and it was strictly off limit to non-authorized personnel, and Raihan loved Leon too much to give this particular person clearance to barge in on them like this – advanced into the room, floating himself three inches off the ground. 

Just in case anyone missed the fact he was a psychic trainer, what with the branded uniform and the pokeballs circling around his hat. 

Leon let out a long-suffering sigh and didn’t even bother to hide it. 

“Hello, Avery.” 

“I demand a rematch, Champion,” Avery snarled, glasses gleaming ominously as he pointed a finger so far into Leon’s face it almost went straight up a nostril. “Prepare yourself!” 

“Ah,” Leon said, pretending to consider it, then snorted. “No.” 

“What do you mean _no_?” Avery demanded, floating up so he was snarling the worlds right into Leon’s face. He seemed fairly convinced the more he snarled, the more likely he was to get his way. “I _demand_ a rematch! Now!” 

Leon braced himself on his heels, refused to budge even as Avery kept pressing closer and closer until he was tilting slightly backwards to compensate, and snorted again. 

“I’m not Champion anymore, Avery,” Leon explained, in the exasperated tones of a fed-up adult explaining object permanence to a toddler. “For… almost two years on the dot, now.” 

“Nonsense,” Avery snapped, raising a hand as if to grab the front of Leon’s shirt, so Leon shifted and moved, neatly dodging the attempt. “You’re the undefeatable champion!” 

“Was!” Leon chirped out happily, thumbs hooked on the waistband of his shorts. “I’m a Gym Trainer in Hammerlocke, these days. I work for Raihan, now.” 

Raihan raised a hand and waved dutifully, but all Avery did was give him a withering glare and pointedly turned his back on him. Leon resisted the urge to scream. 

“If you think I’ll take this lying down—” 

“You can take whatever you want, however you want, so long as it’s not from me,” Leon replied, deadpan, and valiantly ignored Camilla’s desperate guffaw somewhere in the sidelines. 

“Fine,” Avery hissed, eyes narrowed, “name your replacement. If you insist on being worthless to me, I—” 

“She quit,” Leon pointed out, and was not entirely successful in draining the glee of his voice, because he knew it’d make Avery splutter in place. “And anyway, the whole Champion thing, as we knew it, it’s actually over now.” 

“What do you mean it’s _over_?” Avery screeched, eyes glowing as he turned to Leon with fury. 

Leon knew his own eyes were most certainly glowing in return. 

“It’s no longer a position within the league,” Leon explained, the corner of his lip twitching snidely. “It’s merely an award to the best trainer of any given year.” He offered a beatifically insincere smile. “Sorry.” 

Avery made a sound of deep frustration, turned on his heel – actually turned on his heel, it looked almost impressive, but it was Avery so Leon refused to be – and then stomped away like a tantrum-throwing child. He even slammed the massive doors shut behind him, and everything. Leon stared at the doors for a few breaths and then snorted. 

“Oh, _fuck_ that guy,” he said, with feeling, and then startled when Aria and Raihan choked on their drinks and spat them out on reflex. Leon blushed. “You don’t know him like I do,” he muttered defensively, slouching over to his desk, to finish his lunch. 

“Shit, with that letter of recommendation,” Camilla pointed out, cackling, “I’m not sure I want to!” 

“You don’t,” Leon muttered sullenly, and took a thoroughly morose bite of his sandwich. 

He hoped – knew it wouldn’t be, but hoped anyway – that that was the end of it. 

He was nothing if not optimistic. 

* * *

“I must apologize for the inconvenience my student visited upon you.” 

Leon smiled on reflex, even as he was elbow deep in cleaning the goomy tank. It turned out the hardest part of raising baby goomy was keeping their fish tank clean: the slime build up constantly and it stuck to the glass something fierce. Leon reckoned he was getting in a decent workout every other day, when he cleaned the tank. In the meantime, the goomy were flopping about on the opposite side of the sink, blowing spit bubbles at him. 

“It was no inconvenience, Master,” Leon said, looking up at where rotom was floating high above his head. “Honest. Avery’s just…” 

“He’s not a bad child, inherently,” Master Mustard said, because he was old and kind and generally all around a nice person, and Leon respected him enough to not outright argue with him. “But he is very lost still, when it comes to what he’s hoping to make out of himself.” 

That was a very polite understatement. 

Leon had met Avery when he was nineteen, and Avery took it upon himself to ambush him in an elevator. It hadn’t been a great first impression, over all, more so because both Oleana and Rose had chided him for being late and dismissed his assertion that it hadn’t been his fault, for once. Avery kept ambushing him for almost two whole years, breaking into hotel rooms and cornering him in bathrooms, and then demanding a battle. Leon was obligated to indulge him, because he was the Champion and his job was to fight anyone who challenged him, even those outside of the Gym Challenge. But he _disliked_ Avery. 

It was almost novel, really, given the fact Leon had until that point just assumed he liked everyone. Avery proved he very much didn’t. Avery was rude and arrogant and invasive and terribly unpleasant, all around, and Leon took a very un-sportsmanship amount of pleasure in kicking his teeth in every time he challenged him. 

And then, one day, Avery broke into the locker room in Ballonlea, after Leon fought Opal in an exhibition match, but before he could start on his usual circus of threats and insults, Opal was suddenly there, fierce and deeply disapproving. It was the first time Leon had ever seen her truly mad, and he’d endeavored not to court her bad temper, ever since. She’d told Avery to stop harassing Leon when she was his real target and told him to either prove his worth in the pitch, or leave. 

There was history, there, bitter and raw, but Leon deemed it not his place to ask, and after Opal delivered one of the most thorough thrashings he’d ever seen, Avery walked away, seemingly for good. 

“I always assumed he’d left Galar,” Leon admitted, rather than make any comment that required him to lie, when it came to Avery. 

“Well, if you want to be technical about it,” Master Mustard replied, chuckling, “my Isle of Armor _is_ outside Galar.” He sighed. “But I understand what you mean. I’m afraid Avery is not yet ready to give up Ballonlea, just yet. He still feels entitled to it.” 

Leon snorted acidly. 

“Good luck with that,” he replied, shaking his head as he went back to furiously scrubbing the walls of the tank. “This will be Opal’s heir second year at the head of the Gym, and I don’t think he’s got any real desire for an heir of his own yet.” 

“Ah,” Master Mustard sighed, “so the lovely Opal has finally found her true glimmer of pink?” 

Leon thought of Bede and winced. 

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it, yes.” 

“I’m glad, she’s waited long enough, to find a worthy successor to her legacy,” Master Mustard said, and Leon could just picture him, fingering his beard. “We’re not, after all, part of Galar, so we don’t get much news. I wish I had been able to see your last battle as Champion.” 

Leon smiled. 

“It was magnificent,” he said, because it had been, “I don’t regret it at all.” 

“That’s good to hear!” The old man replied, clearly pleased. “I always worried about you, my boy. I don’t know if I did the right thing, setting you in the path I did.” 

“There were good times, and not so good times,” Leon said, standing back straight to stare up at the ceiling, pensive. “But still, even now, _I don’t regret it at all_.” 

“You should come visit, some time,” Master Mustard said, breaking the slightly lingering silence. “There are so many things here now, that were just distant dreams, last time you were here. I would very much like to see you again, and show you what came of all those ambitions you and your venerable grandmother helped make reality.” 

_Things you can do, explicitly for you._

Leon frowned, took a deep breath, and leaped. 

“Gym Challenge season is about to start,” he began, tentative, “so my place is in Hammerlocke, for the duration. But…” He swallowed hard. “But maybe after? If it’s not too much trouble.” 

“Any time that works for you, my boy,” Master Mustard replied, laughter in his voice, “you and yours are always welcome here.” 

Leon found himself grinning. 

“Sounds like a plan, then!” 

* * *

“I lied to you,” Raihan began, once Leon was seated across the desk from him – and he’d recovered his breath from the brutal climb up the stupid stairs up his stupid tower – fiddling with his fingers as he stared at Leon intently. “Well, not entirely. I mean… fuck. Let me start over.” 

Leon blinked at him, and nodded in what he could only hope was an encouraging fashion. 

“I asked you not to read my articles, because I’m self-conscious about them,” Raihan explained, swallowing hard. “But I lied, when I said it was about the writing.” He licked his lips. “It’s because I mention you a lot in them, and I’ve done so for years now. Not by name, or anything, but there’s no way you wouldn’t know I was talking about you, if you read them. So I was embarrassed, and I didn’t want you to think I was being a creep. So, I’m sorry.” 

“No need to apologize,” Leon replied, smiling slightly. “I’m… flattered, honestly. And I really don’t think you could write anything that’d make me think you’re a creep, Rai.” 

“I mean, I know that, now. Yes,” Raihan replied, still looking rather awkward all things considered. “Which is why I wanted to let you know, because I realize it bothers you that I asked you not to read them, and it’s not—” 

“If you don’t want me to read them, I won’t read them,” Leon interrupted, and then reached across the desk to hold Raihan’s hands. “To be honest, I do want to read them, because they’re something you care about and it’s something I think I would actually understand and not feel too dumb reading. But if it makes you uncomfortable that I read it, I won’t. It’s a boundary we set, and I can respect that. No hard feelings about it, I promise.” 

“God, I love you,” Raihan wheezed, bowing his head slightly, even as his fingers clutched Leon’s tightly. “The thing is… I don’t know, anymore, if I want you to read them or not. Because I finished the book, and I really want you to read it and tell me what you think, but it feels stupid to ask you to read the thing you don’t really care about and then tell you not to read the things I wrote that you actually want to read.” 

“It’s not that I don’t care,” Leon said, frowning. He tugged at Raihan’s hands, until Raihan was looking at him in the eye. “I care, I do. But I don’t care the same way you and Sonia do. I can’t. History will never be a dead thing to poke and prod and study, the way it seems to be for you. I don’t understand it, the same way you do.” Leon tugged Raihan’s hands up and towards his face, until Raihan was stretching across the length of the desk, so Leon could press a kiss to his knuckles. “I told you, Rai, anything that matters to you, matters to me. And if you want me to read your book, I will. I will be honored to.” 

“You’re the entire reason the stupid thing exists in the first place,” Raihan said, tugging Leon’s hands and making _him_ stretch across the desk, so Raihan could kiss his hands. “You’ve been working so hard just to give me enough room to do it. It’s only fair if you get final say on it.” 

“We’ve both been working hard,” Leon said, and let go of one of Raihan’s hands so he could stand and walk around the desk, until he was dropping himself into Raihan’s lap like he belonged there. Which, as far as he was concerned, _he did_. “We deserve something nice, to celebrate.” 

Raihan raised his hands to hold Leon face and tilt it so they were breathing the same air. 

“I’m listening.” 

Leon wrapped his arms around Raihan, pulling him close. 

“Well, I’ve got some ideas.” 

Like the ensuing and rather thorough performance review. 


	11. then and now, now and then

“On this most auspicious of days,” Raihan said solemnly, standing behind the podium, dressed in a sharp suite in Hammerlocke colors and wearing the thick, heavy gold chain that Delilah had taunted him about, back in Kalos, “I am very pleased to announce that the current class of our advanced apprenticeship has come to a successful end. Hammerlocke Gym Trainer Aria, Hammerlocke Gym Trainer Camilla, Hammerlocke Gym Trainer Sebastian, it is with great pride that we have gathered today to celebrate your success.” 

Leon stood by the sidelines, away from the natural framing of photographs of Raihan and the siblings, who were seated, in equally formal wear, on the raised dais from which Raihan was conducting the ceremony. He’d made that choice, despite Raihan’s slight protests that he was allowed to be in the spotlight, as a fellow Gym Trainer, but Leon wanted today to be special. He wanted to make sure no one had any reason to look anywhere else but at the siblings. As Raihan continued his speech, which he’d written with Leon’s help, so it wasn’t like Leon didn’t know what he was saying or he was being rude by not paying attention, Leon allowed his eyes to wander across the crowd and marveled somewhat how different the room felt. This was the same room he’d answered countless post-battle interviews, during his days as Champion, but there was a decidedly less aggressive slant to the mass of press sitting in neat rows – they were neat rows, Leon spent two hours setting up the room and ensuing everything looked perfect, while the triplets were holed up in one of the empty classrooms which had also been hastily converted, by Leon as well, into a changing room, so they could get ‘properly transformed’ by Henri and his team. Maybe it was because he had had a hand with the decorations and the design of the room, or maybe, he thought somewhat somberly, he wasn’t ten and terrified of the camera flashes, easily startled and willing to let them become a sort of monster he had to be on guard against. 

Maybe it was just the fact this wasn’t a League event so most of the press was not the same kind that covered battles and specialized in asking Leon prying, sharp questions designed to create stories they could sell. 

“Hammerlocke is and has always been the most important Dragon type gym in the world,” Raihan said, as he came to the end of the speech, smiling with pride as he shuffled the papers on his podium. “We pride ourselves in our history, in our conservation efforts, in our educational programs, both in pokemon battles and general pokemon rearing, and of course, on being the strongest challenge of our league. As such, I would like to share with you today the fruits of our hard work, and the continued recognition the Hammerlocke name carries, beyond Galar’s borders.” 

Unconsciously, Leon leaned in. 

“Aria,” Raihan said, and his smile softened significantly when she stood up. Her dress was shimmery and covered in golden scales, like her recently evolved partner. “Lady Clair, Gym Leader of Blackthorn City, will be retiring from her position in the Johto League this fall, as she has been chosen to become the Leader of the Blackthorn Dragon Tamer Clan. Knowing well the high standards of Hammerlocke and having witnessed your prowess in battle during various events hosted by our Dragon Association, Lady Clair had issued a formal request to name you her successor.” 

Raihan gave Aria a glossy black envelope with cyan highlights that Leon knew matched the color of Clair’s hair. Aria took the envelope in shaking hands and then tried her best not to burst into tears when he hugged her to his side, pressing a smiling kiss to her temple. 

They had prepared a small speech themselves, to thank Raihan for the posts he’d found for them. Leon knew, he’d helped them compose them. He’d always had a ghost writer, as Champion, but once he became Chairman, he wrote all his speeches himself. He was halfway decent at it, honestly. He sat back and watched Aria stumble through the words, talking about her love of Hammerlocke and how she would always make sure to honor everything she’d ever learned in Hammerlocke. Leon remembered, cynically again, how Rose had chided him repeatedly about breaking character during press events. How he’d painted any show of weakness as a flaw that needed to be overcome. 

Leon remembered crying during an acceptance speech only once, and that was the first year he’d defended his title. In retrospect, Leon had cried, not because he’d won or because the Chairman was saying such nice things about him. Leon had cried because it meant he would not be going home with his parents, afterwards. Hop was due to be born less than a month after, and they had agreed – he’d made them agree, because Rose was right, this kind of life wasn’t the life he wanted for his baby brother, he wanted him to enjoy all the things that Leon had loved best about Postwick, the things he missed so badly sometimes, he woke up crying – if he won, they would go and he would stay. 

If he won. 

It had been Lydia of Spikemuth that he’d faced, in that tournament. And it had been a brutal, terrible battle. Lydia had never been the sort to mince words or play nice just for the cameras. She’d been blunt and vicious and terrifying in a way that Leon always insisted had nothing to do with her preferred type’s inherent advantage over his. He hadn’t been a ghost trainer, by then, after all. Not for that rematch. And he remembered the places where he’d found himself cornered, almost like she was giving him an easy out. 

He could have thrown that match, and gone home, and not become the fucked-up collection of issues and anxiety and dumb decisions he was today. 

He could have gone home. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He’d looked at his team and Lydia’s team and the people in the stands and the challengers who tried and didn’t make it so far. He’d looked at them and felt awful for being so selfish. Being Champion was everything all of them wanted to be. Being Champion was _everything_. He couldn’t just throw it away because he was weak and scared and missing his parents. He had to be strong. He had to give it his best. 

And his best had been _the_ best, for fifteen whole years. 

But the press in the room didn’t grill Aria on why her voice broke in places or why her knuckles were white where she was holding onto the podium. They shot her easy questions to answer: if she knew Clair personally, if she’d ever been to Blackthorn before, if she was _excited._

“Camilla,” Raihan said, as Aria went to take her seat once the questions stopped, cradling her envelope like it was a delicate egg. Camilla stood up, and she couldn’t look more different to her sister as she did: her dress was mate red, lines of gold in the familiar pattern of her partner’s shell. “Professor Birch, from the Littleroot Lab in Hoenn, has been avidly following your article series on the habitat variations among dragon species in Galar. He would like to offer you a post in his research fellowship, to aid in the completion of his new book on the impact of weather conditions on stable populations.” 

If one didn’t know her, Leon reckoned, they might assume Camilla was not excited to receive that offer. She was prone to keep her emotions better in check than her sister, and he knew for a fact it took time for her to open up to strangers. But he could tell she was shaking all over, as she reached to take the envelope from Raihan’s hands. Professor Birch was her idol, after all. Leon had gotten quoted his work several times, during his apprenticeship to her, as he learned the ins and outs of looking after the enclosure. If you knew what to look for, Leon realized, she was all but vibrating with excitement as she took the mic and began answering questions with a lot more aplomb than her sister. 

Then again, any doubts anyone might have had about her feelings on her new assignment were quickly cleared up when someone asked who Professor Birch was, and Camilla proceeded to _lecture_ all present on the importance of his books and research. 

Raihan actually had to clear his throat a bit, for her to wrap up the spiel. 

Leon thought it was cute. 

“And last, but by no means least,” Raihan said, once he recovered control of the mic, offering their audience the charming smile complete with a little fang caught on his lower lip that social media could not get enough of, “Sebastian.” 

Seb stood up, back ramrod straight. He too was wearing Hammerlocke colors, but the cut of his suit was different, less grave and solemn than Raihan’s. Also his tie was patterned with tiny, interlocking goomy, sliggoo and goodra, which Leon had bought for him, despite Henri’s ire that _his_ design – in those same colors, but stylized into something far more lacking in personality and playfulness – had been scrapped at the last minute. Aria had called it favoritism and Camilla had insisted Leon had to buy them dinner after the event, to make up for his clear bias towards their brother. 

Leon didn’t mind. 

He remembered the first time he’d worn a suit in a formal event. His dad had brought him a nice tie to wear with it, and taught him how to tie it in the waiting room before the press conference. It was one of the few, fleeting moments that Leon got to experience a milestone like any other boy. He wanted to share that with Seb, even though he knew Raihan was perfectly capable of doing so. But Seb had looked at him, rather than Raihan, in the split second when Henri showed off his new outfit and started pulling and tugging at him, to get the measurements right. 

It occurred to Leon, as he watched Raihan explain that the Kahunas from the fledging Alola League, wanted him to come teach doubles at the pokemon school in their region and look after their local dragon trial, that at some point, Raihan’s kids had very much become _his_ kids too. 

He didn’t know what to do with that information. 

He watched Seb take questions with the same aplomb he always did everything else, and although his hands were firmly clutching the edges of the podium, he managed to sneak in a few puns and playful jabs in his replies. It felt weird to be proud, in a way, because he had done absolutely nothing to help them, any of them. They were their own person and had made their own choices, and _still_ , Leon was proud of them. They worked so hard, all three of them, they deserved to have their moment. 

“That was good, wasn’t it?” Aria asked, once they were standing alone in the room, after the press left. “We did good.” 

Leon grinned as Raihan, predictably, swooped in to grab all three into a hug, pulling them up until their feet was just barely touching the ground. 

“Yes,” Leon said, watching them squirm and whine and tease, “you did _wonderfully_.” 

* * *

In the end, Leon took them Wyndon for dinner. 

Carl flew them out, at Leon’s request, but rather than head out to a ritzy restaurant in the heart of the city, Leon led them to one of the worker camps in the outskirts. Well, Carl did, at Leon’s request. 

Wyndon was always being rebuilt, as per Rose’s vision of perpetual progress. Neither Leon nor Mia nor Austin, Leon’s replacement at the head of Macro Cosmo’s construction wing, really shared the sentiment or his vision, but the fact of the matter was they were all forced to go along with it, by necessity. Wyndon was always being rebuilt, and the construction crew was always on hand. There were seven camps scattered in the outskirts of the city, far away from the wheel and the tower and the stadium, where all cameras were always pointing. Nearly half a million workers lived there, earning a living manning any of the construction projects across the city: demolishing structures that had outlived their time, and building what would replace them. 

It was a deeply complex system that Jenna had once called Rose’s Human Misery Fueled Perpetual Motion Machine. To stop it would be catastrophic, in human and economic cost. So all they had been able to do, was to try and make it more humane. Less vicious. The board was perpetually horrified by the amount of money Leon had basically hemorrhaged, during his tenure as Chairman, trying to undo all the corners Rose had cut in the process of building himself his very own city. Leon reckoned it was fine. It was his money anyway, and they were just pissed he was not hemorrhaging it in their direction. 

Wyndon was on track to become a tourist attraction, as the city with the ever-changing skyline, and from what Mia had told him, they were looking to market the _hell_ out of that to off set the stray costs that still needed covering up. It sort of worked. Most of the population worked for Macro Cosmo in some capacity, living in buildings owned by Macro Cosmo, eating in restaurants owned by Macro Cosmo, wearing clothes produced by Macro Cosmo. Every inch of the place was branded that way. But at least now people had fair warning what they were getting into, if they lived in Wyndon. It was a PR maneuver that his successors had completed on account of Leon not having the stomach for it: he couldn’t imagine living somewhere without permanence, somewhere everything was scrapped and replaced without a second thought, just for the novelty of it. It went against every fiber of his being. 

So even now, despite it all, Wyndon remained Rose’s city, the one bit of legacy no one could take away from him. 

Of course, Leon had found something that remained, after all. 

Of course, Leon valued that which stayed long enough to become tradition. 

The head cook of the southwestern camp had been in Wyndon since it was little more than foundations laid out for the ridiculous fortifications around the city that Rose had commissioned only because he refused to let his city be seen as lesser than Hammerlocke or Motostoke. She’d come from Sinnoh, and had been cooking the exact same seven recipes for the past thirty years, to feed Rose’s construction force. Leon had met her on accident – all the best people he knew, he’d met by accident – on his fourth year as Champion, when he’d gotten lost and ended up in her camp, instead of the stadium for a press conference. She’d call him skinny and refused to call him a taxi until after he ate. It was some of the best food he’d ever eaten. He made a habit to drop by – on purpose, that is – whenever he could, after that. 

They filed into the mess hall, and Leon amused himself by the fact they seemed to be trying their best to not question anything, even if they felt a little awkward about it. 

“So how does this work?” Raihan asked, sitting next to Leon, as they took one edge of the long bench that stretched along the length of the room. 

He was visibly less ruffled than the triplets, who were still squinting a bit, fearing a prank of some kind. 

“You sit down,” Leon said, arms folded on the table and grin easy on his lips, “and Betty feeds you.” 

“Leon,” Betty said, appearing as if summoned to stand behind him, looking disapprovingly down her nose at him and all sitting around the table. 

She was a tall, lean woman, visibly old, and not particularly likely to smile, the entirety of her face dominated by a nose that had looked quite like a mandibuzz beak to a young Leon. Not that he’d ever told her that, of course, his mother had raised him better than that. Leon reckoned it didn’t matter how harsh she made herself out to look, her food always betrayed how much she loved what she did. One thing he’d learned and refused to give up was that truth: that the only way food could be delicious was if it was made with love. And it needed to be said again, Betty made some of the best food Leon had ever eaten in his life. 

“Hi, Betty,” Leon said, grinning cheerfully. 

She pointedly did not grin back. 

“What have I said about bringing sparkly, skinny bags of bones to my table?” 

“Make sure they tip well?” Leon replied, blinking innocently, even though the mess hall was free for anyone who came in, since Macro Cosmo paid for it directly. 

“Bah,” she sighed, rolling her eyes with gusto. “Are these even old enough to eat properly?” 

By which she meant being old enough to drink. The best of Betty’s dinners had to be eaten with beer. Leon drank his first beer in this hall, and he reckoned his first hangover was significantly kinder on him, because the food had tempered it. 

His grin widened. 

“They are!” He said, purposefully chipper in contrast to her stormy temperament. “We’re actually here to celebrate,” he added, in a mock whisper tone, as if sharing a secret. 

“Oh?” Betty asked, leaning in to stare at the siblings with a calculating glint in her eye. 

“Yeah! They’ve graduated,” Leon said, which he supposed was close enough to the truth, without having to take an hour to explain the nuances of their apprenticeship and how it actually worked. “With honors,” he added, nodding proudly. 

“Fine,” Betty said, clicking her tongue. “Whatever, I suppose there’s room for you.” 

Then she turned away and disappeared into the door that led into her kitchen. Leon had only seen her kitchen once. It had been kind of magical. 

“So…” Aria began, fiddling with her fingers, squinting at him. 

“How does this work?” Seb asked again, frowning as a crowd of rowdy construction workers let themselves in to take almost half of the opposite bench. 

“I told you,” Leon laughed, just as one of the mousey waitress girls came in to place a bottle of beer in front of each of them, “you sit down, and Betty feeds you.” 

“Just like that?” Aria insisted, frowning. 

“Without ordering?” Camilla asked, frowning at the bottle in front of her and the fact Leon was already tipping back a sip from his own. “What if you don’t like the food?” 

“You will,” Leon promised, grinning against the rim of the bottle. “Everyone loves Betty’s food.” 

Before they could argue much, the first course – spicy noodle soup – arrived. Leon watched them take a spoonful in unconscious sync, clearly unsure. But then the flavor hit their mouth and they leaned in, still in sync, same angle and all, and started eating with silent determination until their bowl was empty. 

Leon caught Raihan staring at him and winked, flashing him a victory sign under the table, where the siblings couldn’t see. 

By the time the next course arrived, a small, makeshift band had settled in the furthest corner of the hall and was taking request that people yelled at them from the benches. It was loud and not exactly _good_ , but it matched. It was like the beer, it wasn’t very good on its own – Leon had found he couldn’t really drink that particular brand on his own time, it was kind of actually really awful, even for cheap beer – but it went with the food. 

And the food was _really_ good. 

“I can’t believe you got my kids drunk on cheap beer for their graduation,” Raihan said, hours later, sipping his own beer leisurely as they watched the siblings dance around the improvised dancefloor that had sprung into being once word spread around the camp that celebration was in order. 

At the moment, the triplets were being taught some kind of specific dance that was apparently popular in Johto. Leon had little hope they would actually learn it, what with the fact they were hopelessly, visibly drunk, and everyone kept bursting out into cackling laughter every five seconds. 

“You told me to take care of the party,” Leon pointed out, pretty drunk himself, tie undone and hanging limply from his neck. “No one parties like the MC crews.” 

Raihan kept looking at him for a moment, almost like he wanted to ask something, and then he leaned in and tilted Leon’s face up so he could kiss him. Someone whooped in the background, but honestly, Leon couldn’t bring himself to care. 

* * *

“You didn’t go easy on them,” Leon marveled, somewhere around dawn, when they’d made their way back to Hammerlocke. 

Leon reckoned he was going to spend Monday morning cleaning up the scorch marks and replacing the broken tiles all over the pitch, but that wasn’t what really caught his attention. He helped Raihan settle the siblings – all blissfully conked out, boneless weight – into the guest room’s bed. Aria had lost a shoe at some point and Seb had his tie wrapped around his head, like a bandana, and Camilla had somehow acquired a leather jacket. They looked absolutely a mess, but like they had fun in the process. 

Raihan laughed. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

He hadn’t. 

Leon could tell, by now, that he hadn’t. He reckoned a year ago, he wouldn’t have known enough about rank battles and the duties of a Gym Leader, to appreciate the difference. It had been a drunken request at four in the morning, when they had finally stumbled their way back to Hammerlocke, but Raihan – who, like Leon, was nowhere near as drunk as the siblings – had taken it with due seriousness. It’d been nothing like his battle with Sonia, back in Postwick: drunken and silly and mostly for fun. 

Raihan had walked into his Stadium and fought them just as viciously hard as he fought _Leon_. 

“I remember,” Leon said, once they were back in their own room, slowly undressing and looking forward to faceplant into their own bed. “Back when… back the first time you took me into the Stadium, proper. I fought them like that, and you said I shouldn’t have.” 

“They weren’t ready then,” Raihan agreed, slowly untucking his shirt from his pants. “They are now, to see the gap and take it as challenge.” He grinned, teeth bared, and Leon felt air escape his lungs all of a sudden, because Raihan looked breathtaking right there and then, shirt unbuttoned and hair loose, his eyes all but glowing in the dim light of early morning. “Can’t let all that success get to their heads, after all.” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“I mean,” he said, crawling across the bed to go kneel on the edge of Raihan’s side, reaching out to tug him down so he could kiss him properly. “To the winner go the spoils, yeah?” 

Raihan looked down at him, head tilted to the side, thoughtful. 

“But I haven’t _won_ yet, have I?” 

Leon grinned. 

“ _Yet_.” 

It was a while still, before they actually fell asleep. 

* * *

For the first time in years, the opening ceremony of the Gym Challenge was not held in Motostoke. 

The honor had been ceded to Spikemuth, in order to commemorate the opening of their brand-new stadium. Leon sat on the stands along with the siblings, dressed in uniform, and hollered along with the crowd when the Gym Leaders walked into the pit to wave at the audience and the rather large crowd of Challengers that had signed up for the challenge. Mia looked radiant, hair still forever fixed in the familiar loops, because she’d been Nurse Joy for fifteen years – Leon’s personal Nurse Joy, at that – and she wasn’t about to let anyone forget it. Her voice echoed far across the stadium as she gave her speech, praising Spikemuth’s resilience while very diplomatically sidestepping actually mention what they had endured. 

Leon wouldn’t have, but Leon was significantly less diplomatic than she was, and that was in itself why he’d chosen her to take his place. 

Mia knew the league and the politics and what it _cost_ , to both humans and pokemon, when the league fucked up. But she had grace and poise and that unshakable demeanor of confident calm that made people trust her when she said she knew what she was doing. It was alright. They would be alright. 

The Challengers and the Gym Leaders left the pitch as she took a pause, and the lights dimmed. Well, almost all the Gym Leaders. And then a remix of one of Piers’ most popular songs started to play as the laser lights in bright neon pink began shaking in tune with it. The screens shifted to display Spikemuth’s symbol, the little cute animation Gloria had told Leon she’d designed, where the Y of team Yell turned sideways into Spikemuth’s logo, two prongs moving up and down like maws. 

“And now, formalities out of the way,” Mia said, stepping away from the center of the pitch, “I leave you with our gracious hostess, Gym Leader Marnie!” 

Easily half the stadium was wearing either Spikemuth colors or Team Yell paraphernalia, and the resulting screech when the spotlight landed on Marnie was proportional. Leon felt like he’d taken a sonic boom to the face, blinking dazedly as Raihan came to stand next to him, grinning. Marnie looked good, Leon had to admit, utterly unruffled by the screaming, as usual. The white trench coat was new, but she’d grown so tall, from one year to the next, that it somehow worked _really well_ with the uniform she wore underneath. 

“And her opponent, for this special occasion,” Mia pointed at the other side of the pitch, where the fake fog was rolling away. “ _Former_ Gym Leader Piers!” 

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me who the opponent was?” Leon asked Raihan, whisper-screaming in his ear as the stadium lost its mind all over again. 

Raihan grinned. 

“Yo, Sis,” Piers said into his mic stand, because of course he had that with him, skulls and all, voice rough around the edges, turning around to admire the Stadium. “Really dig what you’ve done with the place.” 

“They wanted it to be special,” Raihan whisper-screamed back, wrapping an arm around Leon’s shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Thanks,” Marnie replied, utterly deadpan, and since it echoed clearly from the speakers, she too must have been wearing a mic of her own, though significantly less ostentatious than Piers. 

Leon remembered all of a sudden that Piers had once accused _him_ of bombasting everywhere he went – bombast was still not a verb – and felt vaguely insulted in retrospect. 

“Shame though,” Piers went on, one hand reaching to unclip a duskball from his belt, “that you chose not to win on your opening ceremony.” 

Marnie’s eyes narrowed as she unclipped her own duskball. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

It was a pretty brutal fight. 

It was to be expected, of course, Dark vs Dark could be nothing but ruthless, but even so. It reminded Leon of his own battles with Piers. The double battle with Raihan, and later the rematch in his own backyard. Those had been swift and a little tricky, but not too bad. But this felt like the battle in Hammerlocke stadium, Piers taunting and Leon slowly losing his mind. It made Leon uneasy, mostly on account of the fact that… well, they were siblings. He tried to picture himself fighting Hop that way, and couldn’t quite do it. Not even his fights with Raihan had that edge to them, where the goal wasn’t victory, but absolute obliteration. 

When Marnie dynamaxed her grimmsnarl, the shrieking reached a point where Leon wondered if his eardrums were going to burst. The fact a Max Starfall was enough to down Piers’ beast of an obstagoon only raised the volume even more, considering all he had left on his side was a toxtricity that had taken a bit of a beating while taking down Marnie’s morpeko. Sure, Marnie only had grimmsnarl left… but what else did she need? 

“This is why you shouldn’t brag,” Marnie said, as Piers’ toxtricity landed on the field, low amp form rather fitting with Piers’ general demeanor. 

“Che, Sis,” Piers said, leaning on his mic stand, “didn’t I teach you not to celebrate before you won?” He raised his hand, duskball clutched tight. “Oi, Gene! For old time’s sake, bro.” 

There was a dynamax band around Piers’ wrist, which was also glowing a very familiar red. Leon snapped his eyes sideways, to Raihan, as Piers’ recalled his toxtricity and his duskball went light and enormous in his grasp. 

Raihan was grinning the same manic grin he got, sometimes, when the siblings did something delightful. 

The stadium had gone silent as Piers threw the oversized ball behind him, and the silence grew deeper and deeper as Gene the toxtricity emerged bathed in the red light. Or rather, Gene the _gigantamax_ toxtricity. He landed on all fours onto the field, roaring, and then stood up to pluck at the growths in his chest, the sound deafening. 

“Grimmy,” Marnie snarled, “G-Max Snooze!” 

“Hit ‘er where it hurts, Gene,” Piers snarled right back, striking a pose as he gave the order, “G-Max Stun Shock!” 

Leon had never seen a toxtricity in the flesh. Not a gigantamax one, at least. They were fastidiously rare. He stared as Gene pulled a _guitar_ made out of _lightning_ out of his own _fur_ , and slammed it on the ground as lightning rained from the sky, far too fast for Marnie’s grimmsnarl to attack. 

“What’s it gonna be? Poisoned or paralyzed?” Piers asked, and then grimmsnarl stumbled, electricity running across her fur, clearly answering the question and clearly preventing her from completing her attack. “Oh that’s too bad, Sis, real sad. Wrap it up, Gene, Max Ooze!” 

There wasn’t anything Marnie could do. 

Silence reigned once more, as grimmsnarl fell, dynamax energy releasing violently in an explosion as Marnie recalled her before she could hit the ground. For a moment there, as Marnie stalked up to Piers, Leon wondered if she was going to do something violent. She had the look on her face, and everything. But instead, as Gene slowly shrunk back to normal size, Marnie threw herself at her brother, clutching him into a bewear hug. 

The Stadium exploded into cheers again. 

* * *

True to everyone’s warnings, the Gym Challenge was kind of actually really boring for the first six weeks. 

Leon followed the matches on his rotom phone, as he went about his duties in the Gym and tried his best to keep his chin up. There was a slightly awkward mood permeating the entirety of the Stadium, what with the fact it was very clear the triplets would be leaving, once the Gym Challenge wrapped up. It was… melancholic, almost. Leon was very happy for them, that they’d gotten the sort of post they wanted, out there doing what made them happy, but he couldn’t deny there was a bit of a tug in his heart, right under his sternum, at the thought of them going so far away. And then he felt dumb, he really did, because even if they were in an entirely different region, he could still go and visit, if he wanted to. If they wanted him to. He’d already gone to Kalos, after all! It wasn’t a goodbye so much as a see you later, he just needed to remind himself of that. Often. 

On the upside, the druddigon had been successfully released into the enclosure with the others, and though she was _picky_ and skittish like nothing else, she’d made friends with shelgon and that meant they burrowed in corners together and stayed out of the fray. Leon thought that was cute. And Raihan gave the duralodon under his care a sheet of industrial grade plastic to play with and grind between his claws. Leon didn’t feel like asking what that was actually used for, he was only glad the little metallic menace had something to entertain himself with that didn’t involve decimating all the furniture in sight. And the goomy were getting bigger and stronger, which meant they liked to escape from the tank and sneak into places, usually the inside of Leon’s shirt. Or his desk drawers. Or, the one time, his lunch box. They were tiny and squishy and smeared everything in sight with goo, but at least they were doing okay. 

And then today, at long last, someone had made their way into Hammerlocke with the prerequisite seven badges to challenge Raihan formally. 

It had been a good fight, but Leon was once more stuck by the fact he could precisely tell the shape of the challenge Raihan had crafted and the way victory was assured once his opponent cracked it. Leon knew Raihan could have won, even after his gimmick was overcome, just by sheer power alone. But he allowed himself to fold, because the point of the fight wasn’t to see who was strongest. It was to see if the challenger was _ready_. The Stadium was full to bursting still, even as the battle wrapped up. It took a while for people to leave, considering most would be loitering around the lobby, waiting to catch a glimpse of Raihan from up close and maybe get a selfie or an autograph. 

Leon didn’t mind. 

Really, he didn’t. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t have his own dedicated fanbase – who were handsy in places, sometimes, and a bit overbearing, and that was considering he was notoriously good at keeping photoshoots hands free, it was so much worse for Raihan, who always hugged fans for a selfie, and he wasn’t _jealous_ , that’d be stupid. He wasn’t stupid. He was dating Raihan, not his fans, and Raihan hugged him _all the time_. 

It was fine. 

He got lost on his way back to the staff room, and he didn’t even notice for half an hour, because he’d been too busy fuming. Or rather, reminding himself he _wasn’t_ fuming. Couldn’t be. 

Of course not. 

Leon found himself walking on the second floor of the staff wing, along the long corridor that looked down at the enclosure with the small sunken windows that had slanted rims and somehow managed to keep the erratic weather of the enclosure from getting into the inside of the keep. Almost like it had been designed with brooding, weather-manipulating dragons in mind, that. He hoped to reach the staff room soon, just so he could feed the babies and maybe catch Raihan before he climbed back up his dumb tower so they could go get lunch together. 

Then he heard the scream. 

It took a moment to place it because he’d never heard Camilla sound panicked in his life, and that had been a sound of sheer, visceral fear. 

It also came from the enclosure. 

Leon threw himself at the window, stretching to poke his head through and see what the hell was going on, and as he struggled to scan what he could see of the enclosure from his perch, he wished he could just phase through things the same way most of his ghosts did. Then his eyes landed on Camilla, sitting on the grass at one end of the enclosure, back against the wall. Before her stood Raihan, hands raised placatingly, as the druddigon roared at him, wings extended and body covered in the tell-tale glow of an outrage fit. 

Fuck. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Leon said, out loud, because it seemed necessary, and then realized that he had no way of reaching the enclosure properly to be any help if he tried to brave the corridor. 

Not unless he climbed through the window. 

If he could climb through the window. 

Druddigon roared, tail slamming into the ground, and feinted a crunch at Raihan. Or rather, it aimed a crunch that Raihan dodged, with that same ease he had to make it seem it wasn’t that much of a big deal. 

Fuck it. 

Leon hoisted himself up the edges of the window, which were slanted and slippery and not exactly designed for that kind of thing. It was surprisingly hard, but he managed to pull himself through, and then he took the leap down into ground level. He rolled with the fall, but it still thundered up all up his legs and his knees, and a hysterical, possibly panicking corner of his brain reminded him he should not, ever, skip leg day. Leon swallowed back the awkward laugh at his own joke and started walking to where Raihan and Camilla were, making sure his steps were slow and unhurried, even though his heart was beating loud and insistent against the back of his throat. 

“Camilla,” Raihan said, not taking his eyes off the druddigon but clearly noticing Leon in the periphery. “Can you walk?” 

Camilla swallowed hard. 

“I think my ankle’s sprained,” she said, voice as serene as she could make it, which was surprisingly a lot, despite the earlier scream. 

“Leon,” Raihan said, impeccably in control, still not taking his eyes of the dragon snarling at him, “take the eggs from the nest and help her out.” 

Leon nodded, because he didn’t trust himself to sound quite so steady, and stepped closer. 

It happened in an instant. 

He _knew_ how fast the dragons in the enclosure were. He knew. He’d spent months looking after them and dealing with their more mischievous habits. He’d always known how dangerous they could be, too. But it still caught him by surprise, how fast druddigon was, as it turned and threw a dragon tail his way. There was no way he could move fast enough to avoid it. Leon stared at the incoming hit and then stared some more when it _didn’t_ connect, because Raihan was there, arms wrapped around the sturdy tail and teeth bared. 

“ _Leon_ ,” Raihan said sharply. “Help Camilla out and then come back for me.” When Leon didn’t immediately move, still stuck on the sound of bone _cracking_ on impact, Raihan snarled, letting go of druddigon’s tail to level him with a glare. “ _Go_.” Leon turned away and flinched when Raihan snarled, louder: “Hubris, _down_.” 

And then Leon realized they were surrounded on all sides by dragons that did not look particularly amused by their antics. He swallowed hard as Raihan went back to stare druddigon and Hubris down, and instead focused his attention on the task he’d been given. Camilla had two eggs in her lap, by the time Leon reached her, and as he hoisted her up into his arms he tried to figure out what had happened. He walked out into the staff area and froze in the corridor, unable to get his brain to process where to go. 

“Left,” Camilla said, voice soft, “the staff room is to the left.” 

“I…” Leon swallowed hard again, feeling his throat parched and sore. “Point for me?” 

Silently, she did. 

It wasn’t until he found his way back into the enclosure – he left Camilla sitting at her desk, with Aria and Sebastian to fuss with the eggs and wrapping her ankle and sternly rejecting their offers to come help, because if there was one thing Leon knew, it was the fact Raihan wouldn’t forgive him if he got his kids hurt – that he realized zacian wasn’t there at his feet. She was with Raihan, instead, sitting immobile at his side, helping him stare down the restless dragons that were quite miffed at the fact Raihan was now softly petting the druddigon’s face, pressing her head against his chest. 

“No harm, no foul,” Raihan said, as he gently pushed the druddigon away once Leon entered his field of vision. “Now go, be good. All of you! Be good!” He added, louder, finally looking around the enclosure as the druddigon hurried away to hide in the little burrow she usually shared with shelgon. Raihan reached a hand out for Leon and clenched his fingers in a way that betrayed the relaxed expression on his face. “Not too obviously,” he whispered at Leon, leaning a surprising amount of his weight into him as he turned around and walked out of the enclosure with his back relatively upright. “Fuck,” Raihan said, as soon as they were back in the corridor, away from prying eyes. “I’m going to need you to hold onto the freak out for a bit longer, Lee. Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Leon replied, panicked whisper completely at odds with the words, but then Raihan stumbled forward, falling to his knees despite Leon’s attempts to keep him upright. “Rai—!” 

“Fuck,” Raihan insisted, free arm wrapped around his ribs, “that hurt.” 

He was unconscious before he hit the ground. 

* * *

The next thing Leon knew, properly, he was curled up in a very uncomfortable armchair in Raihan’s hospital room, cradling his tank of goomy to his chest as he studied the steady raise and fall of the covers, which signaled Raihan was still very much breathing. Their pokemon were scattered around the room, sleeping in three distinct piles, by the window, behind the door and under the bed. It was cramped and not very comfortable, and it also struck Leon that it probably wasn’t allowed. 

Distantly, he remembered arguing about that. 

Maybe. 

He might have yelled at someone, in which case he’d need to apologize. And then, in the middle of worrying about a PR disaster he might have inadvertently started, he remembered he was not, in fact, Champion or Chairman anymore. He should still probably apologize, for whatever he’d said that let him stay in Raihan’s room, along with the small army of pokemon. That couldn’t be regulation. Leon remembered his seven hour stay at the hospital, in the aftermath of the botched darkest day – the first one, oh god, they’d had two of the damn things in the past two years, he dearly hoped Gloria was good on her promise to feed whoever tried to start a third to Nat for the inconvenience – and how he hadn’t been allowed to have any of his pokemon close by. 

Maybe that’s why he’d said yes, when they asked if he could help deal with the fallout, the alternative had been terrifying. 

Maybe. 

“That bad, huh,” Raihan said, and the sound of his voice startled Leon so badly he almost dropped his fish tank. 

“Rai!” Leon whispered, jumping to his feet, and leaving the tank on his seat as he approached the bed nervously. 

“Hey, baby,” Raihan replied, reaching a hand to grab Leon’s, squeezing his fingers. “Sorry about the scare.” 

Leon would like to pretend he did not burst out crying on the spot, but that would be a lie. 

* * *

By the time Mia came in, she found Leon curled up on the side of Raihan’s bed, and their small army of pokemon clinging to the edges, for their own version of supportive cuddles. The doctor had come see Raihan by then, at least, so they all know it wasn’t _too_ bad. Four broken ribs, a few deep bruises, but nothing that bedrest and taking it easy wouldn’t fix. Hopefully. It could certainly be worse, but the druddigon was still recovering from malnourishment and wasn’t at full strength. So there was that. 

“Hi, Ma’am,” Raihan said, fingers playing with the tips of Leon’s hair, eyes-half lidded and expression eminently calm. “Doc said I was getting benched for a couple weeks at least.” 

“Two months, Raihan,” Mia replied, eyebrows arched, as she valiantly pretended Leon wasn’t there at all, “at the very least. I will be very disappointed if I hear even a whisper of you doing anything more strenuous than watch TV before they clear you for it.” 

Raihan wheezed a laugh and immediately groaned in pain. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, suitably contrite. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Ma’am.” 

“Oh, I’m hardly the inconvenienced party here,” Mia snorted, shaking her head. “I’m not the one who has to deal with the seven challengers awaiting their chance to try and claim the dragon badge.” 

Raihan grinned wryly. 

“True that,” he said, and then sighed loudly, tugging at Leon’s hair. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Lee.” 

Leon sighed equally loudly, and refused to wilt when Mia arched an eyebrow at him. He deserved to be curled up in bed cuddling his boyfriend, particularly after the kind of scared he’d just survived. 

“It’s okay,” he said, relinquishing his spot to sit up properly, hands folded on his lap. “I’ll coach Aria on the more… showmanship bits of battles, and it’ll—” 

“No,” Raihan said, with surprising finality. Leon realized both him and Mia were staring at him. “Lee.” Raihan licked his lips. “Leon.” 

Leon felt blood drain off his face all at once. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Raihan nodded solemnly. 

“Absolutely, 100% am,” he replied, and reached a hand to nudge Leon’s back. “The kids are spooked, I can’t ask them to step up on short notice. I wish I didn’t have to ask you, either, but you know what’s at stake. Why it matters that it’s treated seriously.” 

Of course Leon got it. Raihan was the last roadblock standing between the challengers and the championship cup. Hammerlocke was a goal for many, almost on the same level as the Champion title itself. The last test to show everything they had learned during their journey, to see their hard work pay off. If the challenge was lacking, the entire journey would be devalued. And if the challenge was too steep, it would feel like all of it was in vain. Leon _got_ it, now a whole lot more than he ever did, as Champion and Chairman, because Raihan had taught him how to see it for what it was. 

“But I’m terrible at ranked matches,” Leon said, despite it all, because he was terrified in a way he’d never been before, when it came to battles. He wasn’t afraid of failure, but rather, he was keenly, viscerally terrified of being unworthy of stepping into Raihan’s shoes, even for a moment. 

“You’re not,” Raihan said, reassuring, and reached out a hand to hold one of Leon’s. “You’ve got what it takes, and besides, the guys will help you. They know how this works.” He looked over at his team, who were huddled on the other side of the bed, peering barely over the edge as if they could go unacknowledged that way. “Right?” 

There was a murmur of agreement, grunts and growls that Leon knew to be supportive but only made him feel all the more panicked instead. 

“I’m going to puke after every match,” he blurted out, turning to look at Mia with animal desperation. “You know I will.” 

Mia let out a sigh. 

“I’m sure we can accommodate you, Leon, provided you’re kind enough to do it after you’re off the pitch.” 

Raihan laughed – and groaned – in reply, but Leon thought that was mostly because he didn’t realize Mia _meant_ it. 

* * *

“I can’t believe you actually puked,” Aria said, eyebrows arched, while Leon gargled water and pretended he wasn’t in the process of having a meltdown. 

“I can’t believe you actually _lost_ ,” Seb pointed out, sitting on the next sink over, squinting as Leon fingered sand out of his hair and tried desperately to fix it back into the pony tail he’d decided to wear at the last second, almost entirely on a whim. 

“I was _supposed_ to lose,” Leon croaked, “if they’re good enough. That’s the whole point. He was good enough, so he got to win.” 

“But you _actually_ lost,” Camilla pointed out, head tilted to the side. “In public and everything.” 

Leon turned to face the scrutiny – he was surrounded, and he _felt_ like it, for the first time in a very long time – leaning against the sink, fingers clutching the edge of it as if to help him upright. 

“Raihan asked me to,” Leon said, aiming for simple, but not quite sure he hit the mark. 

And then he found himself even more tightly surrounded, as the siblings smothered him into what he only belatedly realized was a group hug. It was like Raihan’s group hugs, only infinitely emptier because Raihan was not there, he was still stuck in the hospital room, under careful watch by charizard and flygon and half of Leon’s team. He was going to stay there a whole week, until they were sure the was nothing wrong with the internal bruising, that there was nothing in the wings waiting to go wrong. Oddly enough, despite so keenly feeling his absence, Leon simultaneously _didn’t_ feel it. Because this was something so ingrained, so clearly _him_ , that it felt straight up comforting instead. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Aria said, “you’re doing okay.” 

“More than okay,” Seb added, “if we go by ratings. Han will be delighted when he sees them.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Camilla whispered, and it was her voice that made Leon’s eyes snap open and the world to jerk back into proper focus again. 

“It wasn’t yours, either,” he said, voice no longer trembling around the edges. “It wasn’t _anyone_ ’s fault.” 

It wasn’t even druddigon’s fault, Leon reckoned. He’d made peace with that, the very next morning after the incident. Raihan was stuck in his hospital bed for the foreseeable future, but Leon still had a job to do. And as soon as he’d entered the enclosure, he’d been tackled by a very upset druddigon that had proceeded to cry about as loudly as Leon had, himself, the day before. By then Leon had pieced together the incident enough to realize it wasn’t really her fault: Camilla had stumbled upon a brand-new nest neither Leon or she had ever seen in that location before, and upon seeing Raihan attempt to take the eggs like he always did, druddigon had freaked out. Considering what Mia’s investigation had pieced together about the smuggling ring she’d been rescued from, Leon surmised watching a human take eggs from a nest had triggered her fight or flight response, and for the first time in her life, she’d felt strong enough to _fight_ rather than run. 

It was all very rational and sensible and understandable, but none of that changed the fact Raihan’s entire torso was a massive, black bruise at the moment and he admitted it hurt to breathe. 

It wasn’t her fault. Or his. Or Camila’s. 

It just was. 

It’d been an accident, and that was all. 

“When this is over,” Leon said, suddenly, shifting his weight on his feet and tugging the siblings until _he_ was hugging _them_ , because they were Raihan’s kids and they were scared, too, “I’m going to take you all somewhere really nice.” 

Aria burst out laughing as Seb tucked himself further into Leon’s arms. 

“Another worker camp in Wyndon?” Camilla asked, taunting but not mean. 

Leon smiled. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m going to take you to the Isle of Armor.” 

* * *

“It was a really nice balance you struck there,” Raihan said, sprawled on the couch, wearing nothing but the bandages around his torso and the comfy flannel pants of the pjs Leon’s parents had given him during their visit over New Years. “For your team composition, I mean.” 

Leon was curled up against his side, pressing his flaming face against the side of Raihan’s neck, while on the large TV, commentators dissected his twelve battles as Gym Leader – five defeats, seven victories – and waxed on and on about the differences between his battling style as Champion and Raihan’s usual strategies. Also the fact half the team he’d used for those fights had been Raihan’s. People just couldn’t _get over_ the fact Raihan’s pokemon were comfortable enough to battle competitively under his command, including his prized duralodon. 

Leon wanted to die. 

He’d meant it as a way to smother stupid rumors trying to play his sudden role as interim Gym Leader like some sort of coup or something other than what it was: him doing right by his Gym Leader, with said Gym Leader’s blessing. There were _rules_ about this sort of thing and everything. It had made perfect sense in his head! But no, people had to _read_ too much into it, make it out to be something else entirely. 

_“Honestly, I’m just mad we weren’t invited to the wedding,”_ one of the commentators said, laughing obnoxiously as they played footage of Leon and Raihan commanding duralodon, side by side for comparison. _“It’s no secret Galar’s greatest rivals are also each other’s sweethearts, but we never knew it was so serious!”_

“Thank you,” Leon croaked, pretending with all his might at his face wasn’t the color of a ripe tamato berry. “God, Gordie must be mad.” 

What with the fact people kept _talking_ about Leon acting as interim Gym Leader in Hammerlocke and what his strategies had been and how he’d changed in the two years since he’d stopped being Champion and the fact he was wearing his old league number and look at all the ghosts and the dragons and _his goddamn hair_ – he’d ended up going more for rainstorms than sandstorms, but all he’d meant was to get hair out of his face, not to make a _statement_ – instead of focusing their coverage on the newly crowned Champion. 

Raihan snorted. 

“They carried him out of the stadium and paraded him all the way into the Rose,” he deadpanned, shaking his head, “I promise you, they’re focusing on you because Gordie is too drunk right now to answer questions and be PG about it.” 

“I just wanted to do you justice,” Leon said, after another lull of silence – and another obnoxious capsule detailing _fifteen differences between Champion Leon and Gym Leader Leon that you might have missed!_ – melting into Raihan’s side a little more. “I didn’t want to disappoint you or make you look bad.” 

“Lee.” 

Leon didn’t look up until Raihan reached a hand and gently forced his chin up, until they were nose to nose. 

“I know what it _means_ ,” Leon insisted, eyes widening slightly, unable to look away from Raihan’s own. “I know how much Hammerlocke means to you. I would rather die than screw that up.” 

Raihan leaned in and pressed his lips against Leon’s, and when the kiss deepened and Leon tried to pull away, out of fear that it would upset Raihan’s ribs, Raihan dug his fingers into Leon’s hair and held him right where he was. It was very unfair. 

“I’m not saying you could never screw up, because that’s not fair,” Raihan whispered, when he finally broke the kiss, licking his lips and pressing the words right against Leon’s slightly slack mouth. “But I can promise I’ll tell you, if you ever actually screw up. I don’t… I don’t _get_ why you freak out the way you do, about the things you do, but this is the one thing I feel reasonably certain in offering that. You don’t have to be anxious about screwing things up, because I’ll _tell_ you if you do.” He smiled, fangs caught on his lower lip, in a way that made him look deeply _pleased_ with himself. “You very much did not screw things up. You did _good_. You kicked ass and did it with style. And I’m sorry I sprung it on you without much warning, but I knew you could do it. And you did. And it was _awesome_.” 

“Shut up,” Leon whispered, rubbing at his face with the heel of his hand, and sniffled loudly. “You’re going to make me cry again.” 

“That’s cool,” Raihan replied, shrugging gently, so as to not upset his ribs, expression the very picture of serene. “I’ll still think you’re cute regardless.” 

Leon wondered if it was possible to die on command, if not straight up out of embarrassment. 

* * *

A month into summer proper, five whole weeks after the end of the Gym Challenge and the Championship Cup, Raihan got the okay to start – slowly! – incorporating more to his daily routine than just lounging around in various degrees of boredom. Most importantly, he got the okay to fly – in a cab, not on his own, and definitely not the reckless kind of flying Leon had been indulging in more often than not as of late, as an excuse to vent bottled up anxiety – so, after wrapping up as much Gym business as possible, Leon hired Carl to come pick them and the triplets up right in their backyard, early Saturday morning. 

It was almost seven hours of flight out into the Isle of Armor, but Carl’s corviknight was more than tough enough to handle the long distance and Carl himself delighted himself sharing stories about Leon’s childhood to entertain his guests. 

Leon grinned through it all, one hand holding Raihan’s, while the other remained firmly around the tank of mischievous goomy that were already dangerously close to outgrowing its confines. And he knew he’d made the right choice, when the archipelago appeared in the distance and the siblings leaned hard enough against the glass to look and very nearly tipped corviknight off balance. Even from so far up high, Leon could tell that his Master had been telling the truth when he’d said things were very different in the Isle now: he could clearly see at least three very distinct buildings that had not been there, back then. 

But then, it had been nearly twenty years, now. 

“Hello, Leon,” Master Mustard said, coming to greet them as Carl landed right before the largest structure in the main island. “I see you brought company!” 

“Is that _Mustard_?” Raihan hissed, tugging at Leon’s arm urgently. “ _Former Champion Mustard_? Eighteen years total, fourteen _consecutive_ , former Champion _Mustard_?” 

Leon grinned. 

“Yep,” he replied, tugging Raihan along as he stepped up to properly greet his erstwhile mentor. “It’s good to see you again, Master.” 

Raihan made a sound, not unlike a small skwovet dying. 

Leon thought it was cute. 

* * *

“It was right here,” Leon said, coming to a stop just at the edge of the water gently lapping the shore, wiggling his toes into the sand. “Nineteen years ago, right on this spot.” He turned to look at Raihan, and smiled. “After charizard… well, charmander, back then, and I had our first real battle, I decided I was going to be a pokemon trainer.” 

If Leon closed his eyes, he could almost see the scene all over again: the massive, furious palossand, towering easily over himself and his partner. He remembered the only thing he could really think about was the way the sand kept digging into his socks and the fact he’d wasted all his cleansing tags on lesser, smaller ghosts. How in the end at least it wasn’t a _gengar_ that was going to eat him whole, which he supposed was almost a comfort. 

And then charmander had flung herself out of his arms, tiny body igniting with a roar that shouldn’t have been intimidating, considering she was still effectively _a baby_ , but it had still given the palossand pause. Then she’d slammed into it, in what Leon would later learn was the move _flare blitz_ , which she had no reason to know, unless her parents had been strong enough to learn it on their own. It had done her more damage than the palossand, honestly, just going by the brutal recoil, but it was still enough to buy them enough time for Leon’s Nan to find them and help. 

“Sonia thought I was mad,” he added, chuckling. “Said I was too much of a crybaby to handle the pressure.” Leon ran a hand through his hair, feeling the breeze ruffle it. “She wasn’t wrong, mind.” He looked over his shoulder at Raihan, and grinned. “But I somehow managed to figure it out in the end.” 

Raihan snorted. 

“Somehow.” 

Leon swallowed hard. 

“The point _is_ ,” he said, turning around to face Raihan, and reaching out with both hands to hold his. “I mean it, when I commit to things.” He grinned sheepishly. “I might fumble a bit, along the way, but… but I figure it out, eventually.” 

Raihan tugged him forward, until he was close enough to kiss. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve figured out this one already.” 

Desperately, Leon hoped so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then suddenly you remember this is a notavodkashot fic, amirite?


	12. the meaning of friendship (and poor impulse control)

Leon’s intentions for bringing Raihan and the siblings along to his visit to the Isle of Armor were along the lines of a family vacation. 

He didn’t _name_ it that, because it felt deeply presumptuous when he thought about it that way, but he also desperately wanted it to be that. The siblings were Raihan’s siblings and Raihan was… the sun Leon hoped to spend the rest of his life orbiting contently. He wanted, more than anything, for them to be family. They were, in many ways, already family. But it was one thing to _act_ like it, and it was quite another to say it out loud. Leon liked when things were said – he knew Raihan loved him, but he loved hearing him say it, over and over again – because it gave him something tangible to throw at the snide, panicked whisper in the back of his mind that sometimes became convinced of the weirdest things. 

What he hadn’t expected was for the siblings to join the Dojo’s training out of a need to prove themselves. But then, from what Leon understood, Avery had been involved in that decision and he sort of got it: Avery was the kind of person that made you want to prove him wrong, repeatedly, for no greater pleasure than being able to tell him to shut up. It was a very different kind of training, though, from what he’d gone through almost twenty years before. He’d never chased slowpokes, for one thing – rather, he’d been chased by ghosts, a lot of them, and Nan had refused to help until he learned to use cleansing tags properly, but that hardly counted as training proper, since both Sonia and Mustard would sit by the sidelines and spectate the whole thing as if to make up for the lack of TV available – but that might have been because slowpokes hadn’t been so fast as the ones the dojo students were apparently trying their best to catch. It seemed like the kind of thing Mustard would do, train slowpokes into being speedy. He probably thought it was funny. 

“And how’s my darling Sonia doing?” Mustard asked him, as they sat at the edge of the courtyard’s corridor, watching students shuffle into the morning’s bracket tournament to determine the chores for the day, while zacian sat with her head plopped on Leon’s left foot and her body sprawled out like she was nothing more remarkable than a lazy boltund. Mustard had been gracious enough to take Leon’s destructive baby duralodon, his fishtank of goomy _and_ his roaming legendary swordless sword dog in stride. “I haven’t talked to her in… about three months, or so. The wedding still on?” 

Of course Sonia was still in regular contact with their old master. Sonia was social and considerate and didn’t build friendships predicated on her dropping in unannounced and then trying her best to make up for the inconvenience. Only Leon was a disaster like that. He grinned, despite his thoughts, shrugging. 

“Wedding’s definitely still on!” He said, chin resting on his knees and arms wrapped around his ankles. “And she’s doing alright. She’s already writing a commentary about Raihan’s book, and Raihan’s book won’t be published til the end of the year.” He tilted his head back, staring at the sky. “I’d say she’s got her stuff together, but she did also make me her best man.” 

“She probably did it as insurance,” Mustard said, lips twitching in amusement when Leon blinked at him, surprised. “To make absolutely sure you’ll pick _her_ as maid… matron of honor,” he added, one eyebrow arched. 

Leon snorted loudly and irreverently. 

“Who _else_ would I pick?” 

He realized he’d been outmaneuvered when Mustard gave him a shrewd look, lips twitching mischievously. 

“Ho,” he said, eyes dancing in amusement, “I do believe my darling Honey just outright scammed me out of a small fortune.” His grin turned sly. “Did you boys enjoy the lagoon? Made any long term plans while you were there? Lovely spot to _declare_ things.” 

Leon felt his face burn, and then buried it into his folded arms so he’d have a reason not to look at Mustard in the eye. 

“Haven’t asked him, yet,” Leon admitted, staring at his toes, and certainly not Raihan, who’d gotten conscripted by Mrs. Honey to help her pick berries from the orchard behind the Dojo, and was walking around on bare feet, wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts Leon would call indecently short if he didn’t know for sure it’d be hypocritical of him to point it out. His legs were both distractingly long and distressingly on display, and they had already caused Leon to almost walk into a tree. Or three. “Been meaning to, though.” 

“So why haven’t you?” Mustard asked, which startled Leon as he’d just braced himself for another lecture on why he was rushing into things and should probably take his time. 

Leon stared at him. 

“…everyone keeps telling me I should wait,” Leon said, slowly, “my mum, mostly. That I should make sure I know what I’m doing, before I commit to something like that. …and that I’m ready to be told no. Because he might say no. And then I’d probably die, honestly. That’s mostly why I haven’t. I’m not there yet.” He grinned wryly. “Plus, I want it to be perfect! I only get one chance at it.” 

Mustard shrugged. 

“It’ll be perfect because he’ll say yes,” he replied, “and you’ll tell the story over and over again, for the rest of your lives. Don’t worry about perfect, my boy, just make sure you’re not stalling. Time doesn’t come back, you know?” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“I know,” he said, even though his relationship with time could be quite tenuous sometimes. Not nearly as bad as his relationship with space, though. “But I’m not kidding about dying if he says no. I want us to be… you know, equals in it. Like you and Mrs. Honey! It’s not fair if he’s got to carry around all my mess.” 

“Mmm, I’ll tell you a little secret,” Mustard said, leaning in conspiratorially, “you’ll know you’re ready to ask, when you stop keeping score.” He winked when Leon stared at him somewhat blankly. “Marriage is not about give or take, it’s about trying your best to support your partner and trusting they’re doing the same for you, without having to keep tally about who’s done more or less. He’s going to carry around all your mess, as you say, and do it gladly. Just like you’re going to carry all of _his_ , without complaint.” 

Leon’s first impulse was to point out Raihan was _not_ a mess, so there was nothing for him to carry, not the same way Raihan did for him. And then he realized that was probably not quite true, considering how much pressure Raihan worked under, and all the little million things he kept track of, all time. So perhaps he did, in fact, have a mess all of his own, but Leon hadn’t quite figured it out yet. 

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to understand the exact depth of Raihan’s personal brand of _disaster_ , which had never properly occurred to him before, because he’d never stopped to consider Raihan could even have one of those. 

“…huh,” Leon said, and turned to look over to where Raihan was balancing a large basket against his hip and chatting cheerfully with Mrs. Honey. 

Then Mustard laughed and Leon felt his face burn on reflex, which of course only made Mustard laugh harder still. 

“Come along, young man,” Mustard said, rolling back to his feet with ease as he patted Leon’s back. “Battle ought to clear your mind enough to properly appreciate lunch.” 

Dutifully, Leon went. 

* * *

“What _is_ that kid’s deal?” Raihan asked abruptly, tilting his head up so he could look up at Leon. 

He was lying between Leon’s legs, back to Leon’s chest, as he stretched long as he was onto the soft grass. After thorough experimentation, they’d decided cuddling on the grassy hill overlooking the ocean was infinitely more comfortable than trying to do the same on the shore. For one, they didn’t run the risk of getting soaked when an overzealous, territorial sharpedo decided to rush at them from the water. For another, they didn’t get sand up in unmentionable places if they happened to get a little – or a lot – handsy while watching the sunset. 

“I can tell you,” Leon replied, snorting dryly. “But I warn you, it’s going to make you feel vaguely sympathetic and then Avery’s going to be _Avery_ and you’re going to feel dumb for feeling sorry about anything, considering he’s. Well. Avery.” 

Raihan snorted. 

“You _really_ don’t like him very much, huh,” he pointed out, clearly amused. “I thought you liked everyone.” 

“Evidently, I do not,” Leon scoffed. “He’s just… pushy and rude and not very good with boundaries.” He paused. “And I _know_ I’m not very good with boundaries, either, but at least I don’t break into people’s hotel rooms and hotel _bathrooms_ to challenge them to a fight. My good will is directly proportional to how much you let me piss in peace, honestly.” 

Raihan barked a disbelieving laugh. 

“He didn’t—” 

“He absolutely fucking did,” Leon muttered and then wrapped his arms around Raihan’s shoulders, leaning forward until he was resting his chin atop Raihan’s head. “He’s a brat and an ass, and it’s not his fault Rose fucked over his family like he did, but he thinks the entire goddamn world owes him reparations for that crap.” 

Raihan hummed in the back of his throat, reaching up to grab Leon’s arms and squeeze them comfortingly, and it was deeply unfair how soothing such a small gesture felt. 

Leon sighed. 

“His grandfather was Opal’s older brother,” he explained, because he didn’t particularly like Avery, but Raihan had asked, and there wasn’t much reason for him not to tell him. There wasn’t much of anything he wouldn’t be willing to tell Raihan, except for the bit where he desperately wanted them to get married, but maybe not yet. Not yet. “He didn’t… take it very well, when he got passed over to inherit Ballonlea. You probably know more about that than I do, honestly, I’m not super clear in all the implications of old school inheritance for the oldest five, but I do know Opal added insult to injury by switching the specialty of the Gym from Psychic to Fairy.” 

“Dark in Spikemuth,” Raihan recited, humming in the back of his throat, “Dragon in Hammerlocke, Ice in Circhester, Ground in Stow-On-Side, Psychic in Ballonlea. Since always. Til always. …except when it’s not.” He chuckled. “Sonia reckons all but Spikemuth make sense, if you consider those are the super effective types against, say, a certain danger noodle who happens to be poison-dragon type. She’s still trying to crack where Spikemuth fits in that theory, considering no matter how far back we’ve been able to track the rhyme, _Dark in Spikemuth_ is always how it starts.” He shook his head. “Few things are as taboo, in the oldest five, than to change the type specialization of their gym. It’s baked into the culture of each town, you know? There’s a reason there’s giant digglets outside Stow-on-Side or the frosmoth festivals in Circhester. The ancestral families that basically built the towns and later on formed the original League… it’s hard to make them change anything. But if you don’t change, you die out, like the folk in Stow-On-Side. Or you end up like Piers used to be, going full on medieval and straight up ruling the place. It’s hard to find a middle ground between evolving to survive, and preserving the history and legacy you’ve been chosen to uphold.” Before Leon could say something – potentially something stupid, at that – Raihan tilted his head back and leaned up so he could press a kiss to the underside of Leon’s jaw. “But you were telling me the sordid true story behind Avery being a dick, sorry. Maybe Miss Clever Clogs is right and I am _perniciously prone to pontificate_ , or something.” 

“I could hear you talk about history all day,” Leon said, without a second thought, and then sighed. “But I should admit it’s mostly ‘cause I could hear you talk about anything you’re passionate about all day.” He grinned, pressing a kiss to Raihan’s temple. “You have a lovely lecturing voice.” 

“Flatterer,” Raihan replied, in the content tones of a purloin soaking sunlight. “Do go on.” 

“Well, you were almost there,” Leon sighed. “The family in Stow-On-Side died out, and the Chairman convinced Avery’s older brother Kyle to set up shop there. Almost as good as Ballonlea, yeah? Only not really. Kyle got the Gym, but none of the perks the other ancestral families had: he was like Alister or Nessa or Kabu, just an employee of the League and maybe a bit of a celebrity, but without any of the political power or the ability to weight in on matters outside the Gym.” Leon sighed, even louder and tightened his grip around Raihan for a bit. “Kyle trusted Rose, though, when he promised to bring back them to their rightful place, and instead Rose liquidated most of their assets, stripped them of what little power they had left, and once he had no use for them anymore, he fired Kyle from the Gym and blacklisted him and his entire wing of the family hard across Galar.” Leon felt Raihan flinch, and buried his face into Raihan’s hair. “I honestly don’t know where Kyle went, after that. They just… disappeared. And then about a year and change later, after Bea got named Gym Leader in Stow-on-Side, Avery popped in. He was banned from the Gym Challenge and all official League events, just by association with his brother, but he got it into his head that if he beat me in a fight, fair and square, he could become Champion and then somehow oust Opal from Ballonlea.” Leon paused. “And then he threw the whole _fair and square_ thing out the window and got petty and mean about using his psychic powers to try and get an edge, and that’s about where I went from vaguely sympathetic to downright infuriated. He only got worse, right up until he broke into Ballonlea stadium and Opal caught him red handed pulling that shit.” Leon snorted unkindly. “And that was the last I saw of Avery until he stormed into the staff room and ruined lunch a while back.” And then, with feeling: “ _Prick_.” 

“He sounds like a lot,” Raihan said, lips twitching in amusement, and then sobered up, looking almost melancholic. “He reminds me of some of my siblings,” he added, voice low. “The ones that have been… hurt so much, they only know how to deal with things in terms of hurting others and lashing out. Which doesn’t excuse it, but it does kind of explain it.” He sighed. “I hope he gets the help he needs, to figure out who he can be, once he stops being hurt and hurting people in turn.” 

“Master said he’s doing alright,” Leon said, lips twitching with the vague intention of a frown that he didn’t let itself park on his face. “I don’t _like_ him, but I also sort of hope he does… find whatever it is he’s looking for. I just think he’s infuriating.” 

“That’s fair,” Raihan snorted, and then tilted his head up gently, bouncing Leon’s. “It’s okay not to like him, honestly. Kid’s definitely not great at endearing himself to others and that’s on him, not on you.” 

Leon offered a small smile. 

“Perks of not being the Champion, you see?” He said, and then tilted his head back to look up at the sky and the million stars slowly popping into existence as the sun sank over the horizon. “I’m no longer contractually required to like anyone.” 

Mercifully, some days, not even himself. 

* * *

Upon returning home, Leon received a package from the Isle of Armor: a game console like the one Mustard liked to spend his afternoons playing, while his students roamed the grounds doing chores. It had a little hand written note – _to help you fill in those long, empty hours, my boy_ – but upon reading the little brochure that came with it, and feeling mildly overwhelmed by the prospect of the setup, Leon left the whole thing under his – their – bed and wrote Mustard a carefully vague thank you note, because that was just good manners. 

It wasn’t like his hours very long or empty, anyway. 

He had a job to do, after all. 

It was fine. 

But just in case, he asked Sonia if perhaps it’d be a good idea for Hop and Gloria to visit the Isle of Armor. For research purposes, of course. Not because he was being petty and efficient about it, hitting two pidoves with one stone: distracting Mustard with the prospect of meeting another promising young former champion, and also setting Avery to make an ass of himself, which he _would_ , the moment he found out Gloria specialized in poison types. 

Those were just… potentially amusing side effects of his entirely selfless and well-meaning actions. 

Obviously. 

* * *

Hammerlocke was almost cavernously empty, without Aria and Camilla around. 

They had chosen to spend their summer backpacking across Johto and Hoenn, together, to get a hold of the regions they would soon be moving to, permanently. Leon saw them both off at the airport, with Raihan and Seb, who chose to stay in Hammerlocke for a little bit longer, yet. There was something there, in that choice, that Leon couldn’t quite make the shape of, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask, either Seb or Raihan, what was going to happen next. They had all gone to the airport to see the girls off, wish them luck in their new roles, and then gone home and not really talked about it. Come next Monday, Seb was there, going about his business, like always. He was meant to go to Alola by the end of the summer, but he seemed taciturn and Leon felt awkward trying to ask about it. 

Of course, reduced staff meant there was plenty of work to go around and keep him busy, but that did little to lessen the weird melancholy sinking into the Gym, and the tangible spaces where the girls were clearly meant to be, but weren’t. Mostly it meant their days were long and they slept in on weekends, and before Leon really took notice, it’d been a whole month since the Gym Challenge ended and it was now firmly – and warmly – summer again and Mustard’s gift lay forgotten under the bed still. 

On the second week, Raihan put them to the task of interviewing prospects that wished to join Hammerlocke as Gym Trainers. Some of them were from their doubles classes. Some of them were Gym Challengers from previous years. Some of them were kids who didn’t even live in Hammerlocke. Leon set up the interviews and worked on the logistics, but in the end it was mostly Seb who led those, because Leon had no idea how to go about it. He had the feeling Raihan had planned it to go that way, but he didn’t know how to ask, because there was a tension, between Raihan and Seb, and he felt keenly invasive and unsuited to even mention it. 

Then Piers showed up one day, while Raihan was watering the plants around the yard and Leon was busy throwing dinner together. He looked exactly as disheveled and generally poorly kept as he had, the year prior, with his hair that was still a fluffy mystery mess and the boots with skull-shaped accents and a guitar case in lieu of actual luggage. 

“Fine, fine,” Piers said, standing stoically in the foyer while Leon pulled him into a tight hug, “get it out of your system, Princess. You get one hug a year and _no more_.” 

“The hell is that fair!” Raihan called out, tracking mud into the kitchen with a grin, “I get one every _three_ years! And I’ve known you longer!” 

“He feeds me,” Piers replied succinctly, tucked comfortably under Leon’s arm as he stuck out his tongue childishly at Raihan. “Deal with it.” 

“Wanker,” Raihan decried, and then swooped in to pull them _both_ into a hug, “you’re looking good, mate.” 

“He is?” Leon asked, perhaps not very politely, but he reckoned it was okay, because it made Piers laugh. 

“Fuck off,” he informed them as Raihan released his hold on him. “I’m gonna shower and sleep for sixteen hours, ‘cause I haven’t slept in forty.” He ran a hand through his hair and tossed his head back dramatically, fixing them both with an unamused look. “Do me a solid and maybe keep the passionate shrieking down for once, yeah?” 

Leon spluttered and felt his face burn on the spot. 

“It was _the one time_ ,” Raihan retorted, because Raihan was seemingly incapable of not taking the bait, whenever Piers was involved. 

“Yeah, and that was one time too many,” Piers retorted, and then summarily stomped upstairs without looking back. 

Leon couldn’t stop grinning afterwards, despite it all. 

* * *

“It’s not good, is it?” Seb asked, because Leon couldn’t bring himself to, as they watched Raihan conduct the weekly check-in on the eggs currently in incubation. 

Those were the two eggs they had pulled from the mystery nest that had ended up triggering the druddigon accident, so they were very much off season to the usual rhythm of clutches and incubation – eggs were usually laid and collected in late autumn, just after the Annual Dragon Conference, and the hatchlings came in late spring, just before the chaos of the Gym Challenge started in earnest – but no one was very comfortable talking about that yet, even though Raihan had made a full recovery without seemingly any repercussions. The last clutch of eggs – the trio of mischievous, adventurous goomy that Leon was still trying to keep contained inside their fish tank – had been Aria’s responsibility to look after, but Aria was gone so now Leon and Seb got a chance to participate and learn how exactly incubation worked in practice, rather than just in theory. 

“No,” Raihan said, gently turning the incubator and the fragile-looking egg inside as he raised them against a lamp. “It’s not.” 

There were cracks on the surface of the egg, which hadn’t been very noticeable before, but had probably been the result of the rather rough way the eggs had been taken out of the nest and placed in the incubators. Leon couldn’t even remember who did what, back then, all he could think of at the time was the sound of Raihan’s ribs cracking under the strength of druddigon’s dragon tail, and the fact he had been meant to take the hit instead. 

“Is… is there anything we can do?” Leon asked, wincing at the downcast looks both Raihan and Seb were sporting. 

Seb looked away, which told Leon all he needed to know. 

“It probably won’t make it,” Raihan said, sighing, “but we can try to give it the best odds.” 

Seb looked up at him in surprise, as did Leon. 

Not all eggs made it through incubation. Not all eggs made it _to_ incubation, even. That was the whole point of the breeding programs in Hammerlocke, as Raihan had once colorfully explained to him: dragons were _shit_ at brooding. Leon understood that well enough. It wasn’t… strange to him, the concept death. Abrupt, unpredictable, perpetually senseless. He was a _ghost_ trainer, he understood the intricacies of death well enough. But he didn’t relish in it and it hit him somewhere under his sternum, to realize whatever Raihan was willing to do, he was willing to do for Leon’s sake. Because he knew – or at least intuited – the fact Leon was fixated on this very disastrous clutch. 

That Leon wanted it all to not have been in vain, even though it had been an accident and that wasn’t how things worked. 

It was a testament to his professionalism – and the absolute certainty Seb would never let him live it down – that Leon did not reach out and kiss Raihan stupid, though he did file away the urge to indulge it at the first chance he got. 

“But it’s cracked,” Seb said, because he was – mercifully – not privy to the scattered disaster that was Leon’s brain and all the thoughts fluttering therein. 

“But not broken,” Raihan explained, lips twitching. He gently raised the incubator against the lamp, so they could see the shadow in it. “So you can, in theory, patch it up so the shell to hold itself together til hatching time.” He put the incubator down and turned away to rummage in one of the cabinets to pull out supplies for whatever it was he was going to do. “It won’t _always_ work, mind. It won’t work _most of the time_ , because cracks only really become apparent when the pressure is too much and by then the reinforcements won’t be enough to keep it together long enough to complete development successfully. It’ll also shorten the incubation period because the egg is _cracked_ , so the risk of infection is high. You usually end up manually breaking them out about two or three weeks too early.” Raihan washed his hands on the small sink by the edge of the room and then snapped on a pair of latex gloves as he returned to the table. “All of that, together, gives you pretty abysmal survival odds, but they’re still better odds than taking it off the incubator and feeding it to my sandaconda. And besides, it’s good for you to learn how to do this. Sometimes eggs are precious enough they’re worth giving them the best chance you can.” 

It took Raihan forty minutes and change to patch up the egg: reinforcing the cracks with tiny, layered brush strokes of glue and then placing thin strips of gauze along what he called stress lines. He narrated the whole thing and Leon felt keenly like he should have been taking notes, more so because Seb _was_ , in fact, taking notes. 

Leon just mostly wanted to climb Raihan like a tree, and had to refrain until after lunch. 

* * *

“Piers?” Leon asked, sitting on the little rim around the yard, watching as Raihan went about washing and pampering their pokemon. 

He did it once a month or so, and always gently but firmly rebuked Leon’s offers to help. He had a large tub with sudsy water and a collection of brushes best suited for the task, and he _liked_ doing it, roughly as much as Leon liked watching it, because he was never going to get tired of watching Raihan play around with their pokemon. It was a good way to build rapport with their pokemon, Leon supposed, and it reminded him of his father pampering wooloo after shearing season. 

Raihan’s sobble, who was significantly more adventurous these days, sat on his shoulder and showed off her increasingly better water gun by helping Raihan with the rinsing bits. Since she spent most of her time asleep in the hood of Raihan’s hoodie, or otherwise curled up behind his neck, it was hard to gauge how big she’d gotten, but Leon reckoned that if Raihan was going to train her for battle, it’d still be another six or seven months before she was ready for it. 

“Hmm?” Piers hummed back, lying on his side and spectating the whole affair pretty magnanimously, all things considered, as Raihan went about scrubbing his obstagoon until the foam came out clean. 

“How do you make friends?” Leon asked, trying his best not to hurry the words out too much, lest he betrayed too much nervousness and Piers decided to be a dick about it. 

There was a 50/50 chance Piers was still going to be a dick about it anyway, because that seemed to be Piers general modus operandi for life in general, but at this point Leon had sort of made peace with the fact Piers was Raihan’s best friend in the world and… a good enough friend to him, too. They understood each other, more or less. It was fine. 

He was also technically his third friend ever in the whole world – Sonia was first, Raihan was second, of course – and that had been a slightly awkward realization to have, sitting on the floor of his therapist’s office. Because Leon didn’t _have_ friends, not really. He and Sonia were friends, of course, but they lived separate lives and didn’t really converge unless they needed something from each other. And that was good and all, but it didn’t exactly help Leon’s crushing, despairing loneliness, that he’d just so recently managed to pin down and identify as the next thing he needed to work on. And of course, Raihan was his closest, dearest friend, the one he shared everything with, but Raihan was also his boyfriend and the love of his life and it wasn’t _fair_ to put all his expectations on that relationship. Raihan was normal and well-adjusted and not a perpetual disaster forever falling to pieces like Leon, so he had friends and interests outside their relationship and that was normal and healthy and something to aspire to. Leon _got_ that, well enough. 

He just didn’t know _how_ to do it. 

So he reckoned he could ask Piers for advice on this, risking the nigh inevitable mocking and taunting, for two reasons, primarily: he’d somehow managed to befriend Piers, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how, much less how to replicate it… and Piers was a massive asshole, _on purpose_ , so if he could make friends, there absolutely had to be hope for Leon. Somehow. 

…he never said his reasons were particularly good, admittedly, but they were what they were. 

It just… it was _hard_. 

He knew how to be professional and how to be perfectly polite. He _liked_ having people like him and he didn’t really have to work too hard to be pleasant. He wasn’t rude or meanspirited and in general he tried to get through his social interactions with as little friction as possible. He just didn’t know how to turn social interactions into friendships. He was still mastering the art of actually being a brother, to his own brother and while he loved pokemon battles and talking about them with fellow trainers… as mean as it sounded to say it out loud, there really weren’t many trainers who were on his actual level. And the ones he knew that were… well, he was dating one of them and the other one was fifteen years his junior and despite her skill, not really _into_ pokemon battles per se, so much as she was into _pokemon_ themselves. It was a very elusive distinction that Leon still hadn’t been able to properly explain because he didn’t really have any reason to tell anyone about it, because he didn’t have friends who understood or cared much about that sort of neurotic little nitpick. All of the people he’d ever known through his years working for the League and Macro Cosmo were… acquaintances and coworkers and he _liked_ them, but he was keenly aware they weren’t really his friends. And there was the still awkward bit where most of them technically worked for him, on some capacity, even if he tried to keep himself as hands-free as possible in his dealing with the MC companies. 

It was a bit disheartening, that the closest thing to friends he had managed to accrue since he quit being Chairman were the triplets, but mostly Seb, who was twelve years his junior, and Alister, who was nearly _twenty years_ his junior. There were a couple guys in the gym – the people’s gym, not Raihan’s gym – who were friendly and generally pleasant, but Leon didn’t really even know their names. Maybe the girl in the corner shop he liked buying herbs and spices from, who was always nice and asked after his pokemon, but then again, she was a fan and since he’d not think about it, he’d never asked her name and now it felt too late to admit to the gap. 

Piers looked up at him through a half curtain of hair and then snorted loudly. 

“I don’t,” he explained succinctly and then shuffled about to pull a crumpled up pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his pants, which was honestly impressive considering they looked maybe painted on. 

“Oh,” Leon replied, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. 

Piers stared at him, blue eyes sharp and expression unreadable, before he rolled his eyes mightily and then blew up a ring of smoke above their heads. 

“You just gotta find people who like the same things you do,” Piers said, shrugging. “Sometimes they’ll stick around, sometimes they’ll be dicks. Sometimes they’ll be both.” 

“But you’re always a dick to everyone,” Leon pointed out, squinting a bit. 

Piers grinned. 

“Yeah, weeds out the assholes real nice,” he said. “You know the ones, the ones that only cared about the titles and shit, not who you are as a person.” 

Leon did, matter of fact, know about that. He winced. 

“It’s bad PR to be rude to fans, though,” he said, realizing all of a sudden that Piers was, now, as a musician, about as popular than Leon had been, as Champion, mostly because he wasn’t confined to just Galar and all his music continued to be _really good_. “You have a PR person, right? Don’t they yell at you for it?” 

“Sure, PR’s Lindsey’s gig,” Piers agreed and then grinned, reaching a hand to poke Leon’s side with a pointy, bony finger. “But my brand ain’t sugar and rainbows and being _nice_ , Princess. I tell it like it is, and people can just deal with it.” After a moment of silence, while Leon did not sulk or look away from that rather mean-spiritedly accurate assessment of his personal brand, Piers snickered. “Oi,” he said, poking Leon again. “You meant it?” 

“What?” Leon asked, squirming away from Piers’ not so subtle attempts to find out of he was ticklish – Leon had to avoid that at all costs or he would never know peace again, he just knew it. 

“Last night, you said you wanted to get yourself some earrings,” Piers said, eyebrows arched, “you meant it?” 

Last night Leon had been significantly drunk, babbling to fill in the silence while they waited for their movie to start. It was startling, but not really, how well Piers slid right back into their lives, like he’d never left at all. He was snippy and taunting and terrible, like always, but he just _fit_. Leon was terribly certain that when Piers left – and he would, eventually, leave, because he had music to record and world tours to go on – he was going to miss the prickly ball of crankiness something fierce. It was almost infuriating. 

“Kinda,” Leon admitted, shrugging. “Yeah.” 

The idea had occurred to him, months prior, for his birthday. But then life had gotten busy, and it had sort of fallen to the wayside. Well, no. Truth be told, the idea had occurred to him _years_ ago, the first time he’d noticed Raihan’s ears were pierced and how nice they looked. But his PR team had shot that down immediately, every single time he’d brought it up. Piercings were considered divisive and too sharp a statement that stood to alienate bits of his fanbase, possibly, so that was not allowed. But he didn’t have a PR team anymore, and he wasn’t Champion and what he looked like didn’t really _matter_ anymore, because all he had to do was make sure he didn’t embarrass Hammerlocke while wearing his uniform. It was fine. 

Piers stared at him for a long moment, and then sighed very loudly. 

“Raihan,” he called out, still looking at Leon. 

Raihan, who was in the process of scrubbing zacian’s fur into a proper froth of suds and soapy foam, looked up at him with a suspicious squint. Zacian was taking this with significantly less reluctance than she had, during monthly bath days back in Postwick. But then, she wasn’t frolicking around in mud as often as she apparently had, back there, so there was that. 

Maybe Raihan was just magic, like that. 

“I’m stealing your boyfriend for the day,” Piers announced, finally tilting his head back slightly, to give Raihan a crooked smirk. 

“Do I get a say in that?” Raihan asked, looking vaguely amused. 

“No.” 

“Does _he_?” Raihan tried again, nodding over at Leon. 

“’course not,” Piers grinned, and then grabbed one of Leon’s wrists and yanked him away. 

Raihan laughed and waved, so all Leon could do, besides trying not to trip on the small table in the living room, was wave back. 

* * *

Piers took him to Spikemuth, of course. 

It occurred to Leon, as they boarded a corviknight cab – it felt a little strange, to fly on a cab that wasn’t Carl’s, honestly – that Piers had nabbed him so abruptly, he hadn’t gotten a chance to grab any of his pokemon. Not even charizard. Leon didn’t remember the last time he’d gone _anywhere_ with at least one of his pokemon tucked surreptitiously into a pocket or clipped to the back of his belt. But there he was, holding Pier’s hand – the hold had reversed at some point, almost the exact same moment that Leon got slightly overwhelmed by the fact _all streets looked the same_ and he realized he had no hope of making home on his own if he somehow lost track of Piers – following along the crowded street – significantly crowded, at that, considering what the town had been like, last time Raihan had taken him here to spy on one of Piers’ rehearsals, which seemed to be _ages_ ago, now – and utterly, completely lost. 

It was the weirdest panic attack he’d ever had: he was suddenly, keenly aware of how helpless he was, and so the freak out was inevitable, but he was also not afraid. Not quite. 

“Relax, Princess,” Piers said, as they came to a stop outside a nondescript building – all the buildings in Spikemuth proper were very nondescript, on account of the fact they’d been seemingly built out of a mold on purpose, lacking most distinguishing features or points of reference – and reaching out to knock on the door with his knuckles. “We’re just getting you sorted.” 

“Okay,” Leon said, because he didn’t know what else to say, and then followed Piers inside. 

Well, he had to, of course. Obviously. 

It was a piercing and tattoo parlor. Leon blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim lights – Spikemuth was _always_ dim, but somehow the dimness varied, from street to street and local to local and it made Leon dizzy and even more lost than usual, too – and found himself staring at the walls with all the pictures of what he supposed were previous works by the owner. 

It wasn’t Sonia, age seven, with a gap in her grin, a needle pulled out of god knew where and her grandmother’s favorite lighter, but Leon still felt a beat of trepidation, when he found himself herded to the chair in the next room. The smell of disinfectant and the sudden appearance of stainless steel did nothing to make him feel better, because now this had the air of a _hospital_ and oh. Oh, this might not be a good idea after all, he thought, as he sat on the chair and tried to catch Piers’ eye. 

“Is this a terrible time to point out I’m _terrified_ of needles?” Leon blurted out in a mildly panicked squawk, as his tongue forcefully unstuck itself from the roof of his mouth and he turned to look to the man who was apparently about to punch one or more holes into him with something like desperation. 

Upon closer inspection, Leon recognized him as a Spikemuth Gym Trainer. Or maybe a Team Yell Grunt. He was fuzzy on the difference, even though Gloria had explained it to him once. 

“Yes,” he said, lips twitching in amusement. “Now close your eyes and count to twenty.” 

It didn’t hurt. 

Not really. It wasn’t the squeamish, panic-inducing feeling of metal sliding under his skin and fluid _moving_ that came with syringes and blood draws, and Leon reckoned perhaps it was time to redefine that particular hang up of his because _this_ was needles but he was still surprisingly conscious and not freaked out. Well, not more than he’d been when he walked through the door, but he blamed that on Piers being Piers, mostly. 

“Oh,” Leon said, staring at the mirror and the new, tiny studs decorating his earlobes, both with a shard-like bit of some gemstone or another that matched Raihan’s eyes suspiciously well. He found Piers leaning against a counter and studying him with shrewd eyes. “These were for Raihan,” Leon said, blinking. 

“Still are,” Piers retorted, one eyebrow arched and lips pulled sideways into a crooked, almost-but-not-quite smile. “Not all gifts for him are his to wear, Princess.” 

Leon pouted, knew he was pouting and found he wasn’t quite inclined to stop. 

It made Piers laugh, which was definitely not the intended outcome, but he also was not complaining. 

* * *

Later, much later, after dinner and Piers dropping him home and then going back to Spikemuth to check on his sister – and, this much Leon got, to avoid Raihan’s reaction to their shenanigans – Leon found himself lying shirtless in bed, wondering why he could never just let things _be_. 

“Explain to me,” Raihan said, sitting in bed and watching Leon carefully go about patting his chest with gauze, “how exactly you ended up with those?” 

Sure, piercing his earlobes had been essentially painless, but it turned out nipples were an entirely different beast all together. And if he’d been the sort of smart, sensible person that Raihan was, he’d have stopped the moment he’d realized that. But, as he’d told Piers upon realizing exactly how much this particular whim hurt, he was there already. 

Might as well. 

“It turns out Piers and I should not be left alone unsupervised,” Leon said, a little bit sullen, “I have very little impulse control and he’s got no desire to replace mine when it runs out.” Leon offered a small wry smile in the face of Raihan’s risen eyebrow. “I don’t know, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

Raihan laughed. Not the meanspirited sort of laugh, but rather amused. Almost helplessly so. It was a nice, bright sound and it immediately made Leon feel better about… well, everything. The fact Raihan crawled into bed and wrapped Leon into a – tender, so very careful about not being rough – hug, face pressed into his hair, well. That improved things significantly. 

“You’re fantastic,” Raihan said, delighted, “I love you.” 

Leon’s face burned, of course. 

* * *

“You wanna battle her, huh?” 

It was Hop’s birthday – already? Leon’s head spun in place as he realized a whole year had already slipped by, since he’d stepped down as Chairman – so of course Leon had come to Postwick to celebrate his brother. And of course, Raihan came with him – Leon’s mum immediately sat him in the comfiest chair in the kitchen, with a plate of orange peel candy, and went on grilling him about how life was going, despite the fact Leon had been providing faithful updates for her. Given that Piers was still living with them – he’d come back after a couple days, once he was sure Raihan wasn’t going to strangle him for enabling Leon’s utter lack of self-control – and considering Marnie was attending as well, as Gloria’s plus one, Piers tagged along. Infuriatingly, Piers charmed Leon’s parents – _and his Nan!_ – without really trying, and without any need for Leon to intercede on his behalf. He wasn’t charming, not the effortless kind of charm Raihan oozed from every pore, but he was the sort of upfront kind of blunt that his dad liked and that seemed to be good enough. 

Leon turned to squint at Piers, who was sitting on the edge of the stone wall surrounding the house, smoking. The yard was full of people Leon didn’t know: friends and colleges of Hop, he surmised, from his work on the lab with Sonia and his expeditions around Galar and a thousand other places Leon couldn’t hope to know. Hop was not like him, after all. He was kind and lively and outgoing. People liked him, naturally, and were drawn to him. He made friends easily and without much trouble, and of course he didn’t have weird compartmentalization issues like Leon did. Leon was glad to see his brother flourishing, he really was, but the crowd of strangers felt a little overwhelming and he tried to keep to the sidelines, keenly aware he probably shouldn’t be a brat and monopolize his brother on his birthday. Even if he kind of wanted to. 

Given that Raihan and Sonia were both present – and a good deal of Sonia’s peers, who were also technically Hop’s peers by now, as he’d finally settled on a topic for his formal dissertation to the research community – it meant they were both deeply absorbed in one of those very polite not-screaming matches of theirs, about history and relics and preservation thereof. As such, Leon ended up circling the periphery of the gathering, orbiting almost naturally towards Piers, who seemed to have lurking in the sidelines down to a veritable science at that point. 

“Gloria,” Piers said, blowing out smoke with a snort. “You want to battle her.” 

“I’d rather battle you,” Leon pointed out, grinning wryly. “I mean, now that I know Raihan’s cool letting you use his dynamax band and all…” 

Piers stared at him for a moment, took a drag of his cigarette and then blew the smoke right into Leon’s face. Because Piers. 

“No.” 

Despite the clear provocation, Leon laughed. He also choked a bit, at the smoke, but when he was done, they fell into comfortable silence, watching the crowd scattered into a few groups, chatting and laughing and clearly enjoying themselves. 

“I watched your matches,” Piers said, after the silence settled into comfortable, and he was done with his cigarette, giving Leon a side-look. “As Gym Leader, I mean.” 

“Oh,” Leon replied, not sure how to decipher Piers’ tone or the way his eyes were narrowed. 

“You looked miserable the whole time.” 

Leon remembered standing in the pitch and feeling the stands cave in and bury him whole with each breath he took. None of the battles he’d fought, as Gym Leader, had been particularly enjoyable, even if the kids he battled had been good and he would have loved to fight them again, in different circumstances. He’d never known there could be battles he wouldn’t enjoy, but there it was. It wasn’t even the fighting itself, it was the setting: his anxiety didn’t mix well with having to measure himself so much, holding back and working on crafting the beatable challenges that Gym Leaders were required to provide. The fact he was trying – and failing, no matter what metrics or Mia or the siblings or anyone said, he had failed miserably at it – to replace Raihan didn’t help much, either. 

Raihan was as intrinsic to Hammerlocke as rice was to curry. Sure, you could eat it without, but it wasn’t the same. 

“Yeah,” Leon agreed, feeling himself shrink slightly. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m cut out to be a Gym Leader.” 

“Cheers to that,” Piers said, and leaned over to clink his glass against Leon’s. “From one monumental failure of a Gym Leader to another.” 

Leon laughed and pouted and clinked his glass back to Piers. 

“I didn’t say _monumental failure_ ,” he replied, a little mock-sullen, and then grinned when it made Piers laugh. 

“You don’t like ranked matches,” Piers summarized without skipping a beat. “I’d say that’s a monumental failure of a Gym Leader hopeful. But you don’t want to be a Gym Leader, and there’s more to life than the League.” Piers grinned, crooked and sideways. “If everything else fails, you and your dragon whisperer bullshit could start a Ranger outpost in the Lake of Outrage. I know a couple o’ Rangers who’d be _delighted_ to kick your teeth in and show you the ropes.” 

Leon snorted. 

“I’m good,” he said, even though he wasn’t, and went back to watch his brother have the sort of life he – finally, desperately, could admit he – wished he’d been allowed to have, himself. 

* * *

“I rejected the Alola offer.” 

It was Friday and Raihan was off for the day, doing whatever it is that he needed to do in Wyndon, to wrap up the publishing of his book. It was also entirely possible he’d gone just to have a chance to bring Sonia along and get into another bickering fight about it. Regardless, he was away and Leon and Seb were left behind, in charge of Hammerlocke as a whole. 

A grand total of seventeen people had been hired as Gym Trainers, to redistribute the work around the Gym, now that Aria and Camilla were gone – not gone, just _away_ , doing their best and having fun and Leon needed to stop fixating on things, it was stupid – because most Gym Trainers were part time jobs that didn’t put in solid eighty hours a week into it. Raihan had told Leon he’d decided to increase the body count and lower the individual load mostly because he’d noticed how harrowed everyone had been, while he’d been working on his book. Leon understood this was reflective of Raihan being the kind of leader who understood the value of not burning out his workforce, but the snide, perpetually insecure impidimp living inside the forest of anxiety inside his head kept snickering and implying it was because Leon hadn’t done a good enough job shouldering the burden while Raihan was unavailable. 

Leon knew it was not. He knew it, with certainty and conviction and _still_ , he found himself worrying about it anyway, even though Raihan had showed him the numbers, beaming with pride, about how much the classes and the interest in the Gym’s efforts had increased, over the past year. It had taken Leon an embarrassingly long time to realize Raihan held him responsible for that, even though all Leon had done was let Raihan plaster his face all over their social media. It wasn’t a big deal, probably. Maybe. 

But it was Friday and they’d let the rest go home early, if nothing else because the work was _done_ , and it was so strange to not have a perpetual list of pending items to tackle or paperwork to file, or _something_. Seb was lonely without his sisters, even if he didn’t say it, and Leon understood the loneliness if not the root of it, so he tried his best to cheer up the younger man whenever opportunity presented itself. And that’s how they found themselves eating at Seb’s favorite place, chatting about the changes and restructuring of the inner workings of the Gym, what new and interesting places they’d found stray baby goomy and a slightly meanspirited betting chart they’d concocted to see who of the new recruits was going to break first and ask about Leon’s cranky legendary rug of a sword dog and her habit to teleport around the gym in a haze of fog whenever she was bored and wanted attention. 

And then Leon’s brain caught up with his ears and processed what Seb actually said, so he did the sensible thing and choked on a mouthful of beer that almost shot out of his nose in reflex. 

“ _What._ ” 

“Thanks, Leon,” Seb deadpanned, face flushed and awkward, “for not making it a big deal, Leon. It really helps me feel better, _Leon_.” 

“I’m sorry,” Leon croaked, ducking his head and tugging the hat down to hide his face. “I’m sorry! I was just… wow. It’s surprising. I’m surprised. Ah. Uh.” They were sitting outside of the restaurant, tucked away in a tiny alleyway somewhere in the depths of Hammerlocke that, if someone asked Leon to point in a map, he was liable to break down crying instead. “Congratulations?” 

“I don’t know if I’m making a mistake,” Seb admitted, letting his head hang forward in self-deprecation. “The Alola offer was _really good_. I went over it with Han three million times. They were super accommodating and kind and I’m sure it would have been great.” 

Leon tilted his head to the side. 

“But it’s not what you want?” 

Seb pushed his fork around his plate and bit the inside of his lip. 

“I don’t want to leave Hammerlocke. I don’t…” He swallowed hard. “ _I know who I am_ , in Hammerlocke. I don’t… I don’t want to start from scratch again.” He was very careful to not look at Leon in the eye. “Han said it wouldn’t matter, that I’m me no matter where I am, and that I’d be fine. And I…” Seb stopped and seemed to consider, before continuing, his voice dropping in volume. “I told Han I was rejecting the offer because I’d decided on a surgery date after all.” 

Leon frowned. 

“Did you?” 

“I mean, yeah,” Seb shrugged, “but it’s not why I rejected the offer. I think Han knows, too, but he just took it in stride.” 

“He cares about you,” Leon pointed out. “You’re his little brother, of course he wants to make sure you’re okay.” He paused a moment and then sighed. “And you’re going to be, anyway.” 

“What if I just ruined my life, though?” Seb wondered, frowning. “Everyone I talked to about Alola kept saying it was such a good fit for me, what if it was my one chance and I just blew it over something dumb?” 

“See, my Nan has a saying,” Leon said, grinning mischievously, “opinions are like assholes, everyone has one and it doesn’t particularly make you special.” His grin widened when Seb squawked in surprise. “It’s really easy to tell someone else what you think they should do, especially when you don’t have to be responsible for what they end up doing. But the truth is, no one knows you better than you do. All that matters is that, whatever you choose, you choose for your own reasons.” 

“I might still be wrong, though,” Seb insisted, frowning. 

“Then you’re wrong,” Leon agreed, and shrugged at the slight glare. “And eventually you’ll figure it out and you’ll fix it. That’s all.” He paused. “I know it’s scary, but the truth of the matter is that no matter how big a choice you make, it’s never the end. You’re going to make more choices after that, and you might even end up changing your mind and backtracking but, _it’s okay to do that_. Because you tried your best and that’s all there is to it.” 

“No biggie or anything,” Seb replied, squinting a little. “Is that it?” 

“I’m very biased, maybe, so that probably means I’m not the best person to talk about this with,” Leon said, turning away to stare at the steady flow of people in the main street that the alleyway connected to. “My Nan is from Kanto, from a very long, very prestigious line of mediums and channelers. It’s… it’s a whole thing. But it’s not like everyone in the family has that knack for ghost type pokemon. My dad doesn’t, certainly. You could drop him in the middle of the Watchtower Ruins and he’d comment on the soil quality and the type of grass growing around it, not on anything… spooky. My brother is great with research and a magnificent trainer in general, but he just… doesn’t have _that_. I do.” Leon smiled a little wryly as Seb nodded along, curious. “And when I was little, I trained to learn how to deal with it, because it turns out that if you have it and you don’t know how to use it, you’re likely to become a danger, to yourself and others. And for a while there, I thought that’s what I was going to be for the rest of my life. I was seven and trying my best and I figured, this is it. This is what I’m going to be, forever: a wandering medium like my Nan. Gotta uphold that family tradition and all.” Leon paused for a moment, and smiled. “But I didn’t want to be a wandering medium like my Nan. I just didn’t know how to say it, didn’t even know I could say no, because everybody was so quick to be supportive about it, and talking about how it was okay for me to take on that role even though it’s not something that’s never existed in Galar proper, and how it was nice that I wasn’t letting the family tradition die… _and they meant well_ , but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” 

“So what did you do?” Seb asked, folding his arms on the table, frown tugging at his brows. 

Leon shrugged. 

“I completed my training successfully,” he said, and then grinned when Seb’s frown deepened. “The core of medium work is that you need a bedrock solid foundation of who you are, to not get lost in whatever you’re channeling through. The irony is that attaining the very thing that allowed me to actually _do_ medium work competently made me realize I didn’t want to do it in the first place. So I didn’t.” 

“What about your family?” Seb pressed on, frowning. 

“Well,” Leon replied, “my main worry about it was that they were so loving and supportive and I was going to disappoint them with my decision… but they’re loving and supportive.” He snorted. “So they loved and supported me and when I was ten and determined to go on the Gym Challenge, my Nan pointed out ten is the traditional age for pokemon journeys in Kanto. So it worked out fine.” 

It hadn’t, strictly speaking, worked out _fine_ , or as simplified as he put it; he wouldn’t have weekly sessions with a therapist to help him walk through his issues and slowly untangle them one by one, if it had. But Seb didn’t need to know that. It wasn’t important to what Leon was trying to say. It made Seb smile, as it was, and that was good enough. 

He did good, he reckoned. 

* * *

As summer approached its end, inexorable and unrelenting, Piers and Raihan left for the Lake of Outrage. 

Leon, very pointedly, did not. He had not been invited along, and despite his growing friendship with Piers and his ever deepening relationship with Raihan, he didn’t ask to go. This was a boundary, and he _still_ hated it, but he understood, in that roundabout way that only really made sense when he thought about it and spent an hour lying on the floor of Dr. Vale’s office, that this was a _Leon_ problem, not a _Raihan_ problem. 

It was okay if Raihan had parts in his life that didn’t include Leon. It was okay if Raihan had friendships that didn’t include Leon. 

It was _fine_. 

…well, okay, it was _miserable_ and he hated it, but this year, he was ready for it. Sort of. After much paperwork and arguing and tedious, boring phone calls he’d listened in but not actually participated on, the Galar League extended a significant exception to its staunch prohibition of foreign pokemon to allow Mr. Gold and his stable of salamances to come to Hammerlocke and offer consultation services regarding Galar’s dwindling dragon population. 

Except Mr. Gold wasn’t going to come, after all. He’d sent his son, instead, on account of _pressing family matters to attend to_ , as explained in the letter that the boy, no older than twenty, had delivered upon arrival. He wasn’t very remarkable, except for the bit his hair was dyed a pale pink, he wore many rings with inner rings on them that he fiddled with constantly, and there was something about his features, mostly the eyes and the shape of his nose, that _tugged_ at Leon’s brain as familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

His name was Victor and he was nowhere near as extroverted as his father, but Leon did not let the deadpan attitude and insistence to not look at him in the eye deter him. 

After all, he was here to do them a favor, and since Leon had set things up in such a way that this was his distraction while Raihan was gone, he was going to try his best to be a welcoming host, both in Hammerlocke and Galar’s name. It was just… a bit hard, considering Victor was not very lively at all. He spent days in the enclosure, taking stock of their dragons and how they were doing, particularly shelgon, guarded by a large, pink pokemon called granbull that was apparently native from Johto, where Victor and his father were originally from. He asked questions in very upfront, blunt ways and though he did not resist Leon’s friendly gestures, like taking him out for lunch or asking him about the breeding business and his experiences in Kalos, but he wasn’t very forthcoming on his own. Nonetheless, Leon tried his best and took his suggestions – a pH adjustment to the sand in the enclosure and a few changes to overall diet for shelgon in particular – to heart. 

Victor seemed infinitely more comfortable around pokemon than people, so Leon appreciated the fact the resident lazy legendary in Hammerlocke deigned to be personable rather than just pretending to be a rug under Leon’s desk. Leon caught Victor sneaking her treats and petting her head the one time, and took it as a sign that things were going to work moving forward. 

But then, on his fourth day – with a whole week and a half left still to go, without Raihan – Victor made a terrible announcement: 

“I’m going to Postwick,” he said, looking down at his partner, whose ears he was petting, rather than Leon. “It’s a small town on the south edge of Galar.” 

“I know,” Leon replied, blinking in surprise, “I’m from there.” 

“Oh,” Victor said, and paused for a moment, not quite sure what to reply to that, apparently. He’d looked up in surprise, so it was the first time Leon got a good look at his eyes, which were a light brown freckled with green, but it didn’t last long, since he immediately looked down again. “There’s a lady that lives there, she owes my dad a favor or two, so she’s agreed to let me set up the stable in her land.” 

“I thought you were going to set up the stable here in Hammerlocke,” Leon replied, frowning slightly. “We prepared a wing of the Keep for you.” 

“Yes,” Victor nodded, “but it’s not enough space. And your breeding cluster is neurotic, the stable would stress them too much and sacrifice their clutches for the rest of the year.” 

“Oh,” Leon replied, “we didn’t think about that.” Normally, he’d defer to Raihan in situations like these. After all, Raihan was the Gym Leader. But Raihan was out there, in the Lake of Outrage, and Leon was not about to interrupt him with something that… well, it seemed fairly logical. “You’re the expert, so I trust you know what’s best,” Leon said, offering a bright smile that went completely unseen, considering Victor was studying his shoelaces. “Do you want help setting up the stable?” 

He said _want_ instead of _need_ , because Victor had repeatedly made it clear he did not need him at all, and also because he’d figured out that the young man tended to take things fairly literally, so it hadn’t been too hard to adapt. He got a nod for his trouble and four days visiting his parents and helping Victor settle in… in Gloria’s house. 

It was hard, fascinating work and it allowed him to meet a salamance in person, several salamances, matter of fact. There were twenty of them, and each of them was significantly bigger and more fearsome in person than what watching them on TV had led him to believe. They were also _not_ tame, not really, and as Leon stood there, and had the biggest, largest stud in the stable land down in front of him, sliding forward until it was right _there_ , half a foot away from sliding away from him, roaring in his face so hard his hat flew away; that was the moment Leon understood why exactly the higher ranks of international leagues were populated with salamances. 

However, once they were settled in, and Victor laconically told Leon he was neither needed nor wanted around anymore for what came next, there was still about a whole week left, without Raihan. 

He also realized he would be returning to Hammerlocke on his own. 

“Good luck,” he said, staring at zacian in the eye. “I hope you enjoyed your time with me.” 

Zacian did something then, that she’d never done before: she leaned in and pressed her muzzle against the side of his face and then licked it, not unlike Sonia’s yamper was prone to do. Leon squeaked in surprise, and then laughed when she turned and run, vanishing every quarter step, to disappear behind the rock fence around Gloria’s mum’s land, across the river. 

Leon found himself thinking that it was funny that she’d gone right back where she’d started, after all… but he also knew better, by now, and he recognized that she was _different_ now, and maybe that was all that was needed to make things work. 

But then, he was just like her, trying to sort out where he belonged and what needed to change before he found his place, so what did he know? 

* * *

“Sonia,” Leon said, surprised to see her standing at the door, with armful of groceries and a mischievous look in her eye. “What are you doing here?” 

“You were mopey on that last call,” she explained, as Leon stepped back to let her into the house. “And I know Raihan’s still away, so I figured you might be lonely.” Leon didn’t know what his face looked like, when she said that, because she grinned at him, leaning up to press a playful kiss to his cheek. “Help me sort this out first, then you can cry about it, you big baby.” 

Leon laughed and blushed and took the bags from her, shaking her head. 

“I’m not going to _cry_ ,” he insisted, and followed her to the living room and the low table there, where all the contents of the bags were revealed: popcorn, wine, Leon’s favorite sour candy and their collection of old, home-made tapes of old scary movies recorded in the jankiest of setups because they’d been six or seven, and definitely not allowed to watch, much less own any of those movies at all, so they’d had to improvise. “…okay, maybe a little sniffle will be had,” Leon amended, smile already a little wet. “Where did you even _find_ these?” 

“Turns out they were in storage,” Sonia explained, “in the lab. And when Hop moved in, I cleared out that room for him to sleep in, but it took me a while to go through all the stuff I found there. And you sounded sad earlier, so I figured… what’s the thing I know is guaranteed to pick you up? I mean, besides Raihan, who’s not here and I suppose is the reason you’re being mopey in the first place… and then I remembered these.” She winked and grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “So, help me figure out how to connect the player to a modern TV and then we can get blissfully drunk and marathon all the classics.” 

Leon reached out to pull her into a hug, face buried into her hair. 

“I love you,” he said quietly, and meant every word. 

“As well you should,” Sonia replied, returning the hug and patting his back as she did. “As my most faithful henchman, you should hold none above in esteem to me, your soon to be benevolent dictator.” 

Leon laughed and clung and reckoned, over all, he was very, very lucky, to know and love who he knew and loved. 

It’d be fine. 

* * *

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Raihan asked, when he came home, Piers in tow, and he realized there was a legendary missing from the premises. 

Leon looked up at the sky and Hammerlocke towers, sitting next to Raihan on the yard, enjoying the last weekend of hot summer breeze. 

He smiled. 

“Nah,” he said, and then reached out to hold Raihan’s hand and pull it up so he could kiss his knuckles. “I’m good.” 

Raihan tugged him forward and press a kiss to his temple, his cheek and then his lips. 

“I love you,” he said, and that’s how Leon knew everything was alright in the world. 

* * *

_For Leon, who makes me try to be better today than I was yesterday, and for Sonia, who will leave no stone unturned in her quest for the truth._

Leon’s head snapped up as he processed the contents of the page, face heating up and eyes widening even as he found Raihan studying him with an almost cautious air. 

“Surprise,” Raihan said a little weakly, lips pulled into a small, wry smile. 

“But it’s _your_ book,” Leon said, at loss for words, not even attempting to control the burning of his face. “It’s… I. _Raihan_.” 

“It’s my book,” Raihan replied, reaching out one hand to hold Leon’s, fingers entwining easily. “That I wrote, all on my own.” He grinned. Not the selfie grin for social media, which Leon was almost sure had been scientifically designed to make people flustered and had the entirety of Galar conditioned to hit like and share on reflex. It was a grin Leon had noticed, like the great possessive git he was, that Raihan didn’t give anyone else but him; and because he _was_ a great possessive git, it made him feel like someone had poured gas into his veins and made his blood bubble in delight. “Which I dedicated to you.” Raihan paused. “And Sonia, too, I guess, but it’s not an early anniversary gift for her.” Another pause as he licked his lips. “Happy early anniversary.” 

After he was done appropriately demonstrating his feelings on the matter – namely, kissing Raihan until he ran out of air, twice, and threatening to climb him up like a tree in the process – Leon pouted, forehead pressed against Raihan’s. 

“That’s unfair,” he said, basking shamelessly on the feeling of Raihan’s hands around his waist, holding him in place. “Now I gotta give you your present early and feel horribly inadequate _now_ , instead of just stewing on it for another two weeks.” 

It felt kind of stupid, by comparison, impersonal. He didn’t even _have_ the thing itself, only the confirmation paperwork and the final invoice, but he wasn’t about to show Raihan _that_. Leon beckoned his rotom to his hands and swiped around until he reached the shipping confirmation, which he then showed Raihan. Since Leon was anxiously scrutinizing Raihan’s face for every minute detail, he got to witness the full gamut of emotion playing on his face. 

“ _Leon_ ,” Raihan breathed, voice small. 

“I didn’t know what else to get you,” Leon said, resisting the urge to squirm. “You change phones every six months and you know way more about them than I do. Henri sorts out most of your outfits for you. You’ve collected most of the books you’d mentioned, even in passing, for the book’s research. And you and Sonia keep fighting about it, and what a big mess it would to get it back. I tried to think of what I could give you that’d make you happy and I kept going back to it.” 

After all, it was private property now, on a technicality, and even if Raihan was willing to get into a fight to reclaim it, being that it was now hosted in Circhester meant sticking his nose into another city’s affairs. The only other option would be to buy it, but Raihan had balked at the price the current – well, former now – owner had set, possibly just out of spite at the idea of losing the newfound tourist attraction in his restaurant, since Sonia’s book had catapulted it into region-wide fame. 

Only someone with more money than sense would agree to such a price, Raihan had told him once, trying to make light of his frustration on the matter. 

Well, Leon reckoned he fit the bill pretty well. 

“You did _not_ ,” Raihan insisted, staring down at him with wide eyes. 

“Between preparations and all the fussing that involves moving it,” Leon explained, looking up at Raihan almost hopefully, “we’d coordinated it arriving on the big day.” He swallowed hard. “Happy anniversary, Rai, please don’t break up with me.” 

Piers walked in on them, basking the afterglow of how much Raihan did not break up with him on the living room couch and proceeded to not react much beyond rolling his eyes and announcing he was ordering take out for dinner, since very obviously Leon was running behind on that. 

Fortunately, Leon had run out of flustered awkwardness by that point. 

Mostly. 

* * *

“I hate it,” Mia said, uncharacteristically cranky, as she wrapped up her tirade. “I hate that stupid, pompous, _phallic_ monument to everything he did and every single way he screwed us over, and somehow _continues_ to do so, even now that he’s gone.” 

At some point, though Leon wasn’t quite sure when it happened, he and Mia had started to meet every month, for breakfast. They met in Wyndon or Hammerlocke or Motostoke, early enough on a Saturday, so it was very clearly not a business meeting, but rather just… a chance to talk about stuff. After all, Mia didn’t have anyone to talk to, who had been Chairman and _got_ what it meant, to be Chairman and all the tiny little petty annoyances of it that she could never speak of without demoralizing her team. Leon was very careful not to tell her what to do, and only offered his opinions on anything when she asked for them. 

It was an interesting dynamic, as far as Leon was concerned. It was a good reminder that he _still_ had a whole bag of skills revolving around management and goal oriented priorities that didn’t really get used much, in Hammerlocke. Mostly because he was very emphatically not trying to run Hammerlocke and after the slight disaster of serving as Raihan’s replacement during the Gym Challenge, he was absolutely certain he didn’t want to even try. There were things he talked about with Mia, things he discussed and chewed on, that he would never feel comfortable talking about with anyone else, mostly because he’d never be able to give sufficient context to explain it. 

It was like snarking at Sonia, about their childhood, or the little inside jokes he had with Raihan: they were fun and entertaining and _good_ , but he could never share that with anyone else, on account of them not having been there to see it all evolve into place. 

On the heels of that thought came the sudden, almost startling realization. 

“Mia,” Leon asked, their meal was done and paid for, and they were standing outside, basking in the still crisp morning air coming in from the mountains surrounding Wyndon, “are we friends?” 

Mia startled somewhat, and then smiled, one eyebrow arched. 

“I don’t know,” she said, and gestured at the large tower at the center of the skyline in the distance that had been at the forefront of her ranting all morning, “are you taking the stupid tower out of my hands?” 

Rose Tower loomed large and terrible, a symbol to everything Rose himself had been and done and accomplished… and consequently the regular target of vandalism and protesting and a regular shorthand for people who needed something to be angry about. Mia had moved the League’s HQ out of there as soon as possible, and since then it had remained empty, draining a hole in the League’s budget because it was simply more expensive to destroy it, than to keep it upright, even though it was wasted space. 

It was a monumental, colossal expenditure, but it wasn’t like they could just _sell_ it, either. Who in their right mind would buy the most iconic building in Galar? The price itself was prohibitive, and then there were all those things that made it unusable for the League, which would render it equally unusable for any corporation that might have the means to acquire it. 

It was, quite suitably, a thorn on Mia’s side. On the League’s side. On Galar itself. 

Rose’s last laugh, still digging in painfully, even two whole years after he’d been gone. 

Leon smiled, and took the leap. 

* * *

“So,” Leon said, coming to sit on the couch next to Raihan, though sprawl would have been a more descriptive term, “I might have bought Rose Tower.” 

Raihan, who was watching the Hoenn preliminaries, pressed mute on the remote and looked down at him with an arched eyebrow. 

“What, like a picture of it?” He asked, head tilted to the side. 

Leon carefully swallowed back a very unbecoming, altogether hysterical guffaw. 

“No,” he explained, “the actual building.” 

Raihan blinked. 

“The actual building,” he said, slowly, like he wanted to make sure he wasn’t mistaken in his assumptions, “the one in Wyndon.” 

“Yes.” 

Raihan squinted. 

“The tall ass eyesore of a tower shaped like a rose,” he went on, tone firmly on the dubious side of things, “former league HQ, _that_ Rose Tower?” 

Leon licked his lips. 

“Yes.” 

Raihan opened his mouth and then closed it, several times, spluttering. 

“ _Why?_ ” 

Leon shrugged. 

“I don’t know, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”


	13. past hopes, future dreams

Deep down, _really_ deep down, so far down he’d normally refuse to even acknowledge its existence, Leon knew he hadn’t bought Rose Tower just to make Mia happy. 

Oh, he did do that, of course, and he wanted Mia to be happy and not stressed and to not have to spend another of their breakfast hangouts complaining bitterly about what an utter black hole in her budget the damn thing was. But the truth was, Leon could have just as easily offered to pay for it to be torn down, to free up the space and get rid of it. It would have been, over all, significantly cheaper to do that. Mia pointed it out twice, just because that was a lot of zeros he had to sign over, but no more than twice, because she intuited the shape of what Leon was doing and decided not to pry. It was that instinct about why people did the things they did, that Leon had reckoned would make her a fantastic Chairman of the League. Which she was. 

“I was twelve,” Leon explained, as he guided Raihan through the maintenance shaft, down to the deepest basements of the Tower, where the Power Spot had been contained and wired into providing enough energy to sustain operations for at least two hundred years. He looked over his shoulder with a little smile, fingers curled around Raihan’s, as he tugged him along. “When construction began.” 

He had been small, back then. Naïve, most certainly. But he’d been Champion two years running, and he had been determined to remain. Leon remembered the morning after his second Championship, after he saw his parents off and got to spend perhaps an hour holding his baby brother with utmost care, that Rose had talked to him about the League and what being Champion meant, versus what it could mean. He told him about how previous Chairmen of the League had manipulated odds and matchups in the past, how before he took control, the League was a corrupt, overreaching bully that made decisions based on what was profitable, and ruined lives for sport. Leon had been twelve, at the time, and not entirely sure he understood the full brunt of that tirade – and now that he was almost thirty, he understood he _hadn’t_ been supposed to understand it, that it was part of the point Rose had been trying to make, so Leon would believe him, in him, no matter what – but he remembered his Nan’s old friend, the one who gifted him the greatest gift anyone had ever given him, the knowledge of pokemon battles and the confidence to choose them over embracing the family tradition. 

Leon didn’t know the details – hadn’t then, and didn’t now, he knew better than to stab at old wounds carelessly like that – but he knew for a fact Mustard had been ousted as Champion, not by his successor, but the League itself. Somehow. 

He’d made Rose promise he wouldn’t do that: wouldn’t keep him as Champion if he wasn’t worthy, wouldn’t keep others from ousting him, once his time was done. Rose had smiled and laughed and promised to always keep politics away from the pitch. And he had, was the thing, that Leon struggled with the most, whenever it came to Rose. He _had_. The League didn’t have to resort to shady, underhanded business to get funding, Macro Cosmo was right there, sponsoring nearly every Gym and every Challenger. (But not all of them, Leon thought, bitter, remembering Spikemuth and thinking of Piers, languid and unthreatening, napping in the couch back home, finally allowed to do whatever he wanted, as opposed to everything that was needed to keep his town afloat.) 

“I’d never seen a skyscraper be built, you understand,” Leon said, coming to stop at a corner, tucked out of the way and away from the important machinery and circuitry that was harvesting power from the massive Power Spot. “I thought you just… you know, built it. But you have to dig in really deep to build foundations and make sure it doesn’t fall over with the wind.” He chuckled. “You probably knew that. But I didn’t, and I was twelve and that was the largest hole I’d ever seen, like grownups had taken me and Sonia’s ill-fated attempt to dig straight down until we found the center of the world. It was kind of magical, watching this come together.” Leon smiled, and let go of Raihan’s hand so he could pull at the section of metal paneling covering the wall. It came loose after a moment, revealing the sturdy, naked concrete beneath. “Months and months later, he brought me to see them finish the last part of the foundations. He explained that when you’re building something, you have to put something of yourself in it, and it doesn’t have to be a big thing, but it has to be there. Just to remind you that the thing you built is yours, and that you should take care of it. So we did. Him and Oleana and me. This was his building, but he said he wanted it to be ours too, so we’d feel committed to see things through.” 

In a corner of the concrete slab, which was almost as tall as Leon was, there was shadowed shape that transformed when Leon shone a flashlight at it: there, indented into the concrete, were three distinct handprints. A larger one, with short fingers and square-like shape, and two left by much smaller, much slender hands. And beneath that, a date, carefully pressed in place, in contrast with the _FOR THE FUTURE!!!_ Scribbled by clumsy but enthusiastic fingers above the handprints, which made Leon chuckle as he heard Oleana’s petulant _one exclamation point is more than enough, Champion_ , in his head. 

Leon crouched down and fingered the indent of his own hand with his fingers, not quite sure how to process how _small_ it was. 

“Lee,” Raihan said, curling a hand on his shoulder, anchoring him back in reality. 

Leon realized his eyes were wet and rubbed them dry with the back of his hand. 

“I know he did monstrous things,” Leon said, looking up at Raihan, framed by the glow of the Power Spot into some kind of saintly, ethereal being, almost: definitely not someone Leon could bring himself to lie to. “No one knows better what a monster he was, than me. I had to talk to every single person whose life he ruined, try my best to fix every single terrible thing he did, in the name of his vision for Galar. I know that. I do. I don’t… I don’t mean to ignore it or pretend it’s not true.” He swallowed hard. “But he was kind to me, sometimes. And I know that doesn't sound like much, but he was kind to me precisely the moments I needed it most. And maybe it was a ruse or another round of manipulation, but it meant something, that he was kind. And no amount of hindsight can change that.” 

Impossibly, Raihan smiled. A soft, gentle tug of lips that took Leon’s breath away with startling ease. He reached a hand to tuck some of Leon’s hair behind his ear and then crouched down to be eye level with him. 

“Sometimes the people you love are not… great, themselves,” he said, tucking Leon into his arms. “But you still love them for a reason, and no one has a right to take that away from you.” 

“He replaced my father, in a lot of ways,” Leon said, leaning easily into the embrace. “And I can see that, now. I get why he did it and why it was wrong, but he _did_ replace my father, in a lot of ways. And I don’t know how to not think kindly of him a little bit, for all the terrible things he did, you know?” Leon laughed a bit self-deprecatingly. “Like… it feels selfish, to admit it. But I keep hearing about all the awful, terrible things he did, all the people he hurt, and all I can think about sometimes is the fact that he was there when my beard started coming in, and he took time to cancel his meetings with awfully important people to teach me how to shave and then buy me lunch to celebrate because he knew it _mattered_ to me that the beard came in. I don’t… I don’t know how to sort that out.” 

“You don’t,” Raihan said, pressing a kiss to Leon’s temple. “It’s not your job to sort it out.” 

And he said it so simply, so confidently, like it was another self-evident truth, like the color of the sky or the solidness of ground. He said it the same way he told Leon he loved him, every chance he got, so all Leon could do was laugh, and maybe cry, and cling on. 

* * *

Atop Rose Tower, the very last floor ballooned out into a panoramic bubble from which every bit of Galar was visible. Rose Tower _towered_ just so, that not only the entirety of Wyndon was minuscule at its feet, but it allowed one to see beyond the mountain range of Route 10: the towers and spires of Hammerlocke, now so intimately familiar to Leon, even though he still got lost in the Keep at least once a day, the glittering mysteries of the Glimwood Tangle, the massive monuments surrounding Stow-on-Side, the footprint of the ruins between Circhester and Spikemuth, the frozen edges of the bay itself, and further away, the green expanse of the Wild Area curving slightly just to punctuate how far up they were. Postwick was a distant dot too far away to make out clearly, even though Leon always felt he could point in its direction with surprising confidence, provided he was high up enough to do it. 

Raihan walked right up to the edge, hands spread against the glass, and basked in the vertigo of perspective, eyes wide. 

“Being up here,” Leon said, coming to stand next to him, “he said it really made him conscious of what it meant to hold Galar in his hands.” 

“But that was his problem, wasn’t it?” Raihan replied, looking over at Leon with a half-smile. “He couldn’t make out the people, from up here. Not unless they were like you, and climbed up all the way here, to stand with him.” He snorted at the surprised look Leon gave him. “Well, I’ve got my own tower to dwell in,” Raihan said, shrugging. “Delilah warned me about that, when I told her where I was putting my office. That I needed to come down often, lest I forgot about the people, being so high up.” 

“I always looked at it the other way around, myself,” Leon said, looking away from Raihan’s face and back towards the horizon, back to that tiny glint in the distance that was home. “Being so far up, that you can’t see the people, like you say, but _all of them can see you._ ” 

“…of course you do,” Raihan said, chuckling, and leaned in to press a kiss to Leon’s cheek. “I’m starting to see where the anxiety comes from.” 

Leon felt his face burn. 

“Raihan!” He said, pushing Raihan away defensively. “I’m serious!” He licked his lips. “I’ve never told anyone about this before.” 

About the tower, about Galar, about Rose. And there was, doing it again, piling on Raihan, bits and pieces and stories and terrible things. Like Raihan was just supposed to take on that weight and carry it around, like it wasn’t inherently _selfish_ of him, to just want someone to know. Even though it wasn’t Raihan’s burden to bear. It wasn’t anyone’s but his, his own choices, his own mess, his own— 

“Piers’ hydreigon isn’t Alolan,” Raihan said, carefully casual, hands stuck into the pockets of his hoodie and expression neutral, as if he hadn’t just pointedly tripped one of Leon’s anxiety spirals and left him floundering. 

“What?” Leon asked, for lack of anything else to say. 

“Piers’ hydreigon,” Raihan insisted, balancing back on his heels and then slouching forward that way he did, sometimes, when he was trying to make himself as nonthreatening as possible, to disguise his height. He was staring at Leon right in the eye, though. “It’s not Alolan. It’s Galarian.” He paused. “Also extremely illegal. He caught it at the Lake of Outrage last year during our camping trip, and I helped him smuggle him out and then forge the papers that he’d caught it in Alola.” Raihan grinned wryly in the face of Leon’s blank incomprehension. “See, I’ve been thinking, it’s not fair that you tell me all these things, _share_ all these things, and then I don’t. So! You told me something you’d never told anyone before, so I told you something _I_ ’ve never told anyone before. Which, literally no one can know or the League will suspend me, actually. So maybe don’t let it slip to your friends in high places.” 

Leon stared and stared and stared, eyes wide, throat choked up on something that might have been love and skull reverberating with the sudden, pressing certainty he was going to spend the rest of his life loving Raihan, no matter what. 

“I smuggled a shuppet for my Nan from Kalos,” Leon blurted out, rather than any of the sensible, truthful, earnest things he probably should have, instead. “So it’s not like I’m in a position to judge.” 

“Oooh,” Raihan replied, blinking, “ _that_ ’s what it was!” 

Leon stared. 

“You knew?” 

Raihan grinned. 

“Sure did, they wanted to check on dragapult’s held item when they realized it was a pokeball, because that’s smuggling 101,” he explained, eyebrows arched tauntingly. “I told them your dragapult just liked holding an empty ultraball like a comfort thing, and well. They weren’t going to argue with _me_ about it.” 

Leon stared some more. 

“But you never _said_ anything,” he said, voice small. 

Raihan laughed. 

“Lee, I told you, I think the dex protection law is dumb,” he smiled gently, “and I reckoned, when you felt comfortable, you’d tell me about it.” 

It was his own damn tower, now, Leon reasoned, so it was no one’s business if he wanted to kiss his boyfriend in it. Kiss him until they ran out of air, twice over, even! Raihan laughed and caught him in his arms and kissed back just as much. 

“I have a really stupid idea,” Leon said, “about what to do with the tower. And it’s going to be hard and I have no idea where to start, but I want to try. I want to… I don’t know, rescue some of the magic of this place. Of all the time and effort and hopes and dreams that went into it. Make it mean something else than just a target for people to be hateful and angry about. Even though they _deserve_ to be hateful and angry about a lot of things. I’m probably gonna fuck it up royally, if we’re being honest. But I want to try.” 

Raihan snorted. 

“Well,” he said, "so long as you’re going in with your eyes open about it… So!” He arched an eyebrow. “What’s step one?” 

Leon shook his head. 

“What else?” He sighed. “Cooking.” 

* * *

Piers’ favorite food in the world, according to Raihan, was fish and chips. Nothing particularly fancy about either, too. He liked local, if fresh catch, and he liked his chips crisp and the right amount of salt. That was that. 

Raihan, Leon’s source of insider knowledge about Piers and now enthusiastic if not very helpful helper in his chosen endeavor, asked why Leon had paled at the news, considering fish and chips was… well, just about the most common food available in the entirety of Galar. Pretty easy to make, too. Leon didn’t know how to explain that it was so simple there was nowhere to hide: everything had to be perfect, because otherwise he’d know. Raihan had given him that look he did sometimes, when Leon went on a particularly morbid tangent and he wasn’t really grasping it but he was trying to be polite or supportive or both, so Leon sighed and hugged him and went back to fretting about oil choices for frying and wondering if he could ask Sonia to ask Nessa to hook him up for the fish. 

“Well,” Piers said, six days later, coming home after spending all day hanging out with his sister, squinting at the table that Raihan had set to Leon’s painstakingly fussed over requests. “You want something.” 

“I want something,” Leon agreed, staring at Piers in the eye and ignoring Raihan’s surprised cackle, which he’d barely managed to smother behind his hands. “Your dad works for the Alolan Battle Tree, doesn’t he?” 

Raihan stopped laughing abruptly, choking on spit. 

“If by work you mean he collects a paycheck for showing up two days each season and kicking the teeth of the dumb kids that think they’ve got what it takes to climb to the top,” Piers replied, squinting at him and not bothering to ask how Leon knew that. “Yeah.” 

The answer of course being that Leon had spent three sleepless nights firing questions at rotom almost faster than the little guy could answer them and then stumbled upon a picture on the Alolan Battle Tree website, of what it called its Branch Masters, the trainers that served as gatekeepers between the different ranks within the Battle Tree tournaments, one of whom happened to be a man with Piers’ eyes and choice of specialization. 

That was a man Leon remembered coming to visit Chairman Rose, over the years, visits the Chairman was never particularly pleased with either. But asking about that man ended up unearthing a slew of stories not about pokemon, but about his personal life, including the minor scandal, almost thirty years prior, about Spikemuth’s Gym Leader marrying a man almost fifteen years her senior who then promptly disappeared from Galar and reappeared in Unova, making waves in the League there both by his skill and his tendency for the dramatic. 

Piers never talked about his dad, was the thing. He never talked about his mom, but Leon had pieced together enough about _that_ to know better than to pry. Honestly, he didn’t want to pry this way either, but he reckoned it was his best lead. Despite his connections all throughout Galar, he didn’t really have much of a foothold to reach out into the international community. Most people outside Galar had no idea who he was, and he didn’t really know how to reach out without someone making the introduction. That had been one of Rose’s best lessons, Leon reckoned: it is always better to have someone introduce you to important people, than trying to introduce yourself. After all, if you’re at all anyone worth their time, surely there must be someone out there willing to say so. 

Leon swallowed hard and took the leap. 

“Do you think you could put in a word with him?” Leon asked, head tilted to the side. “So that he’ll agree to a meeting?” 

“Why?” Piers asked, and he might have done it with a squint and a suspicious look in his eyes, but it was a testament to their friendship that he _asked_ instead of flat out saying no. 

Leon took a deep breath. 

“Because I want to turn Rose Tower into a Battle Tower style challenge, and I have no idea how to go about it.” 

Piers hummed, thoughtful, and then shrugged. 

“I’ll do you one better, if you’ll stay the hell away from my old man,” he said, one eyebrow arched. “I’ll put in a word with the owners instead. But you gotta pick up the tab for me, I owe them a battle and I’m not in the mood to pay up that.” 

“Sure!” Leon exclaimed, smile pulling so hard at his mouth his lips hurt a little. “Anything you want, Piers!” 

“Careful, Princess,” Piers replied, grinning sideways, “you never know when I’m going to come in to collect on an offer like that.” 

But even if he did his best to sound ominous about it, it couldn’t put a dent on Leon’s good mood. 

* * *

Piers left a few days later, with as much fanfare as he’d arrived with: that is to say, none at all. 

Leon knew better than to worry about the promise Piers had made before leaving, though. 

It’d be alright. 

* * *

“So this is Postwick,” Seb said, stepping out of the station, blinking at the sudden brightness of the sky. 

Leon snorted. 

“Nope,” he said, grinning, “this is Wedgehurst. Postwick is about mile and a quarter past the middle of nowhere.” 

Seb gave him an alarmed look that made it rather hard to hold back a laugh. 

“Is there even reception out there?!” 

Leon grinned. 

“Sure there is, city boy,” he said, throwing an arm around Seb’s shoulders and nudging him forward. “Raihan survived alright!” 

“Raihan would survive alright _anywhere_ so long as you were there,” Seb muttered grumpily, clearly unconvinced, and then rolled his eyes when Leon beamed proudly at him. “Thrive even, the mad man.” 

“Aww, c’mon, Seb,” Leon insisted, as they started walking down the length of Route 1, “it’s not that bad!” 

“Hm,” Seb replied, petulant, which was probably not helped by the fact it made Leon chuckle. 

They fell into mostly comfortable silence, though, as they walked. Early fall was the best weather in Postwick, as far as Leon was concerned: it was warm enough that you didn’t need a jacket to venture out, but not so hot that walking felt like a chore. Really, as they walked along the fields of cheerfully grazing wooloo, Postwick really did look like a movie set of sorts, almost too perfect to be real. 

“I always forget how _big_ that is,” Seb said, as they stopped in front of Leon’s parents’ house, eyes trained on the sprawling poison noodle sunbathing in the fields across the river. 

“And you’ve never seen him angry,” Leon joked, as he unhooked the latch and opened the wooden door into the yard. “C’mon, we can have lunch before we go in to check on Victor.” 

“It’s barely noon,” Seb pointed out, squinting suspiciously. 

“Yeah,” Leon agreed, grinning, “but good luck getting past my mum without sitting at her table.” 

Perhaps it was a little mean spirited of him, to be amused at Seb’s attempts to navigate lunch, but there was something inherently hilarious in his attempts at propriety and seriousness when confronted with Leon’s parents and their open good will. Leon introduced him as Raihan’s brother – because he _was_ – and when Seb tried to deflect that he really only worked for Raihan, as if to escape the torrent of warmth, Leon’s dad had laughed and clapped him in the back, pointing out how proud Raihan must be that he was so committed to the family business. Like running Hammerlocke was nothing more than a family farm or something like that. 

“Shut up,” Seb said, pushing up his glasses severely as they stepped out, about two hours later. 

“Didn’t say anything,” Leon pointed out, well aware he was being obnoxious, and rather comfortable with that fact, it turned out. 

Dr. Vale might have said that was a sure sign of friendship, but Leon was trying not to jinx himself about it, just yet. 

“But you were _thinking it_ ,” Seb insisted, careful to not look at him in the eye. “Which is almost worse. So stop that.” 

Bellies full and laughter in their lips, they crossed the river and arrived at the least farm-like farm in all of Postwick. The only one in town that didn’t raise flocks of wooloo and that seemed to switch its purpose every other year. This year, it seemed destined to house a whole stable of salamances. They were still as big and fierce was Leon had last seen them, but now that they were comfortable in their new temporary home, they seemed determined to pick a fight with the largest dragon in the premises. Nat swatted away the biggest, meanest stud in Victor’s stable with a flick of his tail and then half slithered, half flew across the field, chirring that loud, crystalline call of his, as he recognized Leon. 

“Hi, Nat,” Leon said, reaching out to pet his head, and pretended very hard Seb hadn’t squeaked and hid behind him on reflex. Nat always knew how to make an entrance, after all. “This is Seb! You remember Seb, don’t you, Nat?” 

“Pretty okay if he doesn’t,” Seb said, swallowing hard and peering at the poisonous embodiment of the calamity that had destroyed Galar thousands of years prior with the required amount of respect for that kind of rap sheet. “Hello.” 

“You’re here,” Victor said, walking up to them, but not really looking at them as he did, frowning. “Why?” 

“You’re an esteemed guest of Hammerlocke,” Leon replied, before Seb could, considering Seb had that look on his face that meant he was considering saying something sharp. “We just want to check in and make sure you’re alright.” 

“If I needed anything, you would know,” Victor replied, laconic as always. 

“Precisely,” Leon insisted, ignoring the way Seb squeaked and flinched away, when Nat effectively blew a raspberry into the side of his face, distracting him away from the conversation. Nat did that, sometimes. “This isn’t just about what you need, I wanted to check in and see if you _wanted_ anything. You’ve been holed up here for a while now! There’s a lot Galar has to offer, Victor. I just want to make sure you’re giving yourself the chance to explore it.” And then, as his eyes landed on Victor’s ever present granbull, a thought occurred to him. “You know, we have a Fairy gym here. You should visit it sometime!” 

“Not necessary,” Victor replied, still carefully looking not at Leon, but at some point in the background, three feet left of where Leon stood. Hysterically, Leon wondered if Victor even knew what he looked like at all. “The Gym Leader came in, a little while back, to challenge Gloria. He was pretty weak and inexperienced, from what I saw. Not really comfortable with Fairy types just yet.” 

“Oh,” Leon said, not quite sure what to tackle first: Bede’s sudden appearance in Postwick, or Victor’s incisive if… accurate assessment of Bede’s abilities. 

Opal had chosen him as successor, alright, but all could see he still had a long road ahead of him, just yet. 

“You should go on the Gym Challenge,” Seb said abruptly, suddenly ignoring Nat’s attempts to get him to pet his head. “In spring, you should try the Gym Challenge.” 

“I’m a breeder, not a trainer,” Victor replied, shrugging. “Besides, by your dumb League rules, half my team is illegal anyway.” He frowned. “What is it about you people and battles, anyway? It’s like that weirdo from the lab that keeps challenging me to battles whenever I don’t have time to answer his questions. Pretty insistent about it, too.” 

“Weirdo from the lab?” Leon asked, blinking. 

“Some kid,” Victor explained, shrugging. “Comes by every other day, asking all sorts of questions about breeding, and always, always demands a battle before he goes.” 

“Must be one of Sonia’s assistants,” Leon guessed, shrugging. “They’re all very excited to be working with her, so it might be that. I can ask her to pass along the message, if you want, that you’d rather be left alone.” 

Victor took a moment to consider this, frowning. 

“I don’t mind,” he conceded after a moment, and then shrugged. “It’s just. Weird. Wanted to point it out.” 

Leon smiled wryly. 

“Point taken,” he offered, conciliatory, and then reached a hand to tug at one of the bone-like growths that made up Nat’s crest, gesturing him to leave Seb alone, lest Seb freaked out too badly. “So! How’s it going down here? How’s the stable feeling about the relocation?” 

Victor squinted. 

“I sent you an email about all that already.” 

Leon went on, bravely, despite the clear lack of enthusiasm. 

“I know, I know,” he said, waving a hand, “but I’d love to hear your thoughts about it.” 

“But,” Victor repeated, “I already sent you an email about it.” 

Leon resisted the urge to scream. 

* * *

“After long, thorough consideration,” Raihan said, hose in hand as he went about watering the plants in the garden, which had significantly multiplied over the past six months, since Leon’s dad had sent more than a few of his prized flowering babies over as gifts every couple of weeks or so, “I’ve decided to let Sonia have her digging site beneath the Vault.” 

Leon – who was in the process of taking out an adventurous baby goomy out of the bowl of sev he’d been trying to eat, and considering if he really minded the added slime or if he was going to go make a clean batch instead – looked up at him in surprise. 

“Really?” 

Raihan shrugged altogether philosophically about it. 

“Really,” he said, and grinned at goodra as he sprayed her with the hose playfully. He looked over his shoulder at Leon and shrugged, more pointedly this time. “I told her it was my wedding present for them.” 

Leon squinted at him. 

“What does Nessa get out of that?” 

Raihan grinned and put a finger on the opening of the hose, modulating the flow so he could spray gentler water onto the baby goomy, who immediately began to dance and squirm about, clearly entertained. 

“Well,” he explained, eyes bright, “I reckon she won’t have to hear Sonia bitch relentlessly about what an asshole I am for, and I quote, _obfuscating the path towards the truth_.” 

He was being flippant about it, and normally, Leon would have let it go. But that was before that day, atop the tower. That was before he had Master Mustard’s words echoing in his head, teasing about reciprocity. 

“Are you sure?” Leon asked, putting down the bowl – surrendering it entirely to the baby goomy, who immediately climbed in to eat through it – and standing up to walk up to Raihan, frowning slightly. “You were pretty against it.” 

Raihan looked down at him, and for a moment, the world trembled and Leon realized Raihan was unsure. Then the moment passed and he smiled. 

“I was,” he admitted, as he reached out a hand to hold Leon’s, “and a lot of the reasons why I think it’s a terrible idea still stand, and I do, in fact, think it’s a terrible idea.” He smiled, and then looked up, at the towers and spires of the Keep. “But I realized the reason I was saying no wasn’t because I thought she shouldn’t, but because I thought I couldn’t say yes. Because until then, I was still thinking of Hammerlocke itself as something that had been given to me almost like a loan? Or that I was expected to look after it until I had to give it back.” He swallowed hard. “But I don’t have to give it back. It’s not… it’s _mine_ , all of it, and if I let Sonia blow up a hole beneath the Vault to look for history that probably doesn’t exist, _I can_. I should.” 

“You don’t have to,” Leon said, frowning. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’ll tell Sonia to back off, to—” 

“But I _do_ have to, Lee,” Raihan said, smiling nervously. “I really do. I have to own it, now, or I’ll never do. And whatever the cost, this… this matters to me.” 

“Then it matters to me,” Leon said, tightening his grip on Raihan’s hand. “I’m here, Rai.” 

“That’s good, baby,” Raihan said, leaning in to kiss the corner of Leon’s mouth. “Because you’re gonna have to hold my hand when they start digging.” 

Leon smiled. 

“I can do that.” 

* * *

The owners of the Battle Tree in Alola arrived to Hammerlocke one crispy autumn morning, the Monday after Raihan’s birthday, which they had spent just like the year prior: visiting his old foster home and hanging out with his frankly absurd number of stepsiblings. Leon got around the prohibition on gifts by cooking dinner and conspiring with Raihan’s rotom to keep him in bed and disconnected from the world for the whole weekend, just so he couldn’t fret about Sonia’s emails about the proposed digging site. 

Leon was surprised by how young they were, five, six years older than him, but not much more than that. It gave him hope that maybe his insane idea wasn’t quite so insane after all. 

“So you’re the guy Grimsley’s kid duped into taking his place?” The shorter of the two newcomers said, fast talking as he shook Leon’s hand. “Name’s Blue. Try to put up a decent challenge, will you?” 

“Ah,” Leon replied, blinking. “Actually, I asked… that is, my name is Leon. Nice to meet you! Wel—” 

“Battle first, chitchat later,” Blue interrupted, pointing with his thumb at the taller man standing – actually kind of looming – by his side. “He’s been cockblocked long enough by your pal, y’know? It’s only right.” 

Leon spluttered a little questioning noise in reply, though he did note the taller – and much quieter – man smiled wryly at him from beneath the very fashionable snapback he was wearing. Leon would know, he was something of a connoisseur of hats; according to his personnel file in Hammerlocke, his entire personality was hats, even. 

“I built the Battle Tree as an excuse to find good trainers for him to fight,” Blue explained, somehow taking the lead towards the pitch, even though Leon was supposed to be the one giving the tour. “Your friend got all the way to the finals of the seasonal tournament, earned the right to challenge him… and then forfeited. That’s the _very_ definition of cockblocking.” 

“I don’t—” Leon tried to interject, as they burst through the incubator room, on what he was almost definitely sure was not the right way… or the right definition for the term, actually. 

“Anyway, Piers said you’ve got a tough as nails charizard as a mainliner, right?” Blue asked, as he turned left seemingly at random and somehow managed to find himself in the waiting room before the pitch. He looked Leon up and down, borderline disdainfully. “Got a charizardite to go with that?” 

Leon blinked. 

“Actually, yes, but—” 

“Great!” Blue declared, clapping his hands and _absolutely_ in control of the situation by then, “1v1, Mega Charizard vs Mega Charizard, it is. Chop chop, let’s get it out of your system, yeah?” 

His partner – he was definitely not talking to Leon at that point, that much Leon got - smiled wryly and tilted his head, tipping his hat at Leon with one finger. 

Leon laughed in defeat. 

“I mean, yeah, why not.” 

* * *

Red – his name was Red, but Leon only found out when Blue announced the battle to their audience, which they had, now, and included all the new Gym Trainers, Seb, and Raihan, watching from the stands – had a charizard that gave Leon’s a run for her money. 

His was a charizardite Y, against Leon’s charizardite X, but the type difference only drove home how close they were in raw strength. Leon had battled his share of charizards – charizards were insanely popular in Galar, after all, everyone wanted to have one, just like the unbeatable Champion – and even now, two years after he’d lost his title, he still ran into merch that people wanted signed. But this was the first time he faced one that could actually go toe to toe with his. He could feel his partner’s mixed feelings about it: the outrage that someone would challenge her dominion like that, and the bottomless excitement because this _wasn’t_ a fight that was won the moment she stepped into the pitch. 

After Red used overheat to counter charizard’s outrage, Leon stopped paying attention to the battlefield and thinking about the fact he was going to end up spending all week doing repairs on it, and just… 

Let go. 

_He let go_ . 

He could hear his own heartbeat thumping in his ears and felt charizard’s echoing in each pulse of the mega stone he kept clenched in a fist, because he hadn’t figured out where he wanted to put it yet so it just lived in the inside of his pockets, next to his wallet and his keys. And that sounded terrible and uncaring, but Leon was frightfully mindful of the contents of his pockets, so it was okay. It was okay. The mega stone burned in his hand and charizard burned in the field, blue rather than the usual red, but bright and powerful as always, and Leon felt the euphoria of not holding back, of strategizing, of _thinking_ — 

“Well _shit_ ,” Blue said, from the sidelines, as the smoke cleared and both Leon and Red’s charizards slumped forward into the ground at once. He signaled with his hands, in a way Leon had never seen in any match he’d ever participated before. “I do believe that’s a tie.” 

Red recalled his fainted partner just as Leon did the same, and met him at the middle of the field. He had a strong grip, when they shook hands, and Leon realized he was as thrilled as he was, by the results of their fight. 

“Thank you for the amazing fight,” Leon said, grinning widely. “Maybe we can have another rematch later?” 

Red did not respond, not with words anyway, but he nodded slowly and offered Leon a sincere smile. Leon let go of his hand and turned just in time to see Raihan walking up to them, a very strange look on his face, considering he was staring at Red like he’d seen a ghost. An actual ghost, at that, not the usual ghosts that trailed after Leon all the time. Perhaps he was shocked by the results of the battle, or surprised by how far Leon had let go. 

But before Leon could say anything, rain began to fall. 

Well, sort of. It was abrupt as a downpour, but the rain itself was mist-fine, and the end result was rather fog-like. They blinked in surprise – this was strange, even by Galarian crazed weather standards, what with the fact the stadium itself was _technically_ indoors – and looked up on reflex, and then they saw it. 

“Are you kidding me?” Blue asked no one in particular, “we’re nowhere _near_ Johto.” 

Standing in one of the tall archways near the top, that opened the stadium out into the air, a pale blue pokemon unlike anything Leon had ever seen before was looking down at them. It was rather regal-looking, with an ice-like crest atop its head and a mane of deep purple fur stretching down the length of its back. Tails or whiskers, Leon couldn’t quite make it out from so far away, glittered at its sides, along the rhombus patterns of its fur. 

Leon couldn’t make out its eyes, from that distance, but he had a hunch they were a very particular hue of lilac. 

“Wait,” Leon called out, as, having caught their attention, the mysterious pokemon turned away. “You were there, weren’t you? That day in the Weald, you purified the spring!” 

The rain stopped. Not to mean that it stopped raining and the air cleared, but rather, _the rain stopped_. Each droplet floating midair, static, held in place by an outside force. 

Then the pokemon let out a loud cry, and all the water fell at once, in one single splash, and they only saw him leap out of the archway, vanishing out of sight. 

* * *

Blue, in what Leon was quickly learning was Blue fashion, immediately took control of the situation and after grilling Leon for answers and the location of said Weald, decisively took charge. Leon thought he was a little exhausting, more so because the next thing he knew, he was stuck in a train with him, Raihan and Red, heading straight for Wedgehurst. Raihan seemed to be fairing better than him, at handling Blue’s forceful, blunt conversation tangents, and even managed, after a while, to herd him back into providing an explanation. Sort of. 

“It’s called Suicune,” Blue said, opening a bag of nuts and then wordlessly passing it to Red, who had yet to utter a single word at that point. “And wherever Suicune is, _she_ can be far behind.” 

“She?” Leon asked, head tilted to the side. 

“The one that got away, huh?” Blue taunted, nudging Red with an elbow and getting a sullen glare for his efforts. Blue snorted acidly. “Yeah, well, I’m the one who stuck around, pal, so tough luck and suck it up.” 

But then Blue shifted gears and started grilling Raihan about the Gym Challenge format and what it was like, to be a Gym Leader in Galar – he was a former Gym Leader himself, from Kanto apparently, before he’d gotten bored and started the Battle Tree in Alola, a few years back – and Leon decided he wasn’t that desperate to join the conversation and instead joined Red in a rather one-sided game of _I spy_ that was slightly rigged on account of the fact Red continued to not say anything at all. 

Gloria was waiting for them, at the station. 

“You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” She ventured as a rather accurate guess, in lieu of a greeting. She grinned when Leon shrugged, and ignored Blue’s pointed demands about her identity. “They’re friends with my mum. Sorta.” She gestured with her head towards Route 1. “Little bird told us you were coming to Galar, though he didn’t say they were your guests, Leon. Might have spared you the dramatics, if I’d known.” 

“He?” Raihan asked, reaching out to hold Leon’s hand, while Blue made a snide remark and took umbrage to the _friends_ label. 

Gloria shrugged. 

“My dad,” she explained, without actually explaining at all. And then, she did finally turn to face Blue, eyebrows arched. “He’s still waiting for you, in Viridian.” 

“He can wait sitting down,” Blue deadpanned, and then stalked off briskly down Route 1. 

“Y’know,” Gloria said, watching him go, “I always thought my parents were exaggerating, when they talked about him.” 

Red, upon realizing all eyes were on him, let out a small sigh and shrugged expansively. 

Gloria grinned the particular grin that made Leon contain a groan of his own. 

“Well,” she said, cheeky as ever, “it just be that way sometimes, huh?” 

* * *

Gloria’s mum – whose name, it turned out, wasn’t Ma’am or Gloria’s Mum, but rather _Lyra_ – did, in fact, know who Red and Blue were, and was waiting for them. She countered most of Blue’s authoritative demands with rather… complacent remarks, but there was a pattern to it, Leon realized, considering she was guiding Blue to agree with what she wanted without getting dragged into his energetic commentary. That still seemed very exhausting, if anyone cared to ask Leon what he thought, but no one really did – Raihan had been very quiet, since meeting up with Gloria, and he was now giving Lyra long, thoughtful looks, like he normally reserved for the more feral of the dragons back home, as if expecting her to explode somehow – so he kept his thoughts to himself. 

“Oh, get it out of your system already,” Blue snarked darkly, giving both Lyra and Red looks of vague contempt. “It’s not every day there’s five Champions in town, might as well accept the inevitable.” 

Leon found himself working with Raihan to clear out one of the fields closest to the Weald, moving bits of scrap and stuff from what looked like abandoned projects here and there, to prepare a relatively large battle area, and absently wondering who was the fifth Champion Blue had alluded to: he and Gloria were the obvious ones, and Blue had bragged about being a former Champion at some point during the train ride, as well as mentioning Red dethroning him at some point. He probably meant Raihan, who was internationally known as the head of the Dragon Association, and certainly strong enough to be Champion in other Leagues. Probably. Meanwhile, Lyra and Blue bickered – well, Blue was bickering, Lyra was drinking tea from the same snorlax-themed mug she’d had, half a lifetime ago, when she’d poked Leon with some unrequested advice about taking care of zacian – and Gloria walked Red back to Wedgehurst, so he could heal his charizard, considering Blue had marched everyone out of Hammerlocke and into the train too quickly to even stop for that. 

“Lee?” Raihan said, having found his voice as they sat on the edge of the stone fence and watched Lyra, Red and Blue approach them, Gloria nowhere in sight. 

“Yes?” Leon replied, looking over his boyfriend and his strange antics with a frown. 

“You have to promise me,” Raihan said, with a hysterical tint to his voice, “that no matter what this battle turns out, that you won’t tell _a soul_ about it. But specially not Lance.” He paused, for emphasis. “ _Ever._ ” 

Leon frowned. 

“If I ask why, are you going to tell me?” 

Raihan swallowed a very unbecoming cackle. 

“No,” he said, and then smiled wryly. “Sorry.” 

Leon shrugged. 

“Okay,” he said, “I won’t tell anyone.” 

Raihan leaned in and pressed his lips to Leon’s, not a necessarily deep kiss, but very heartfelt. 

“I love you.” 

“Alright, children,” Blue said, once he was within earshot, “I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen a point battle before. _This_ is how truly high level trainers battle.” He turned back to Lyra and Red, who were taking their places at opposite edges of the field. “Six pokemon on each team, six rounds total, each KO is a point and no pokemon may participate in multiple rounds. Take your place.” 

“Ah,” Lyra said, holding an ultraball in hand, “Raihan? Be a dear and don’t report this to the League, will you?” 

“Your entire team is illegal, isn’t it,” Raihan deadpanned, expression blank. 

“Pretty much,” she replied, grinning the exact same indolent grin her daughter would give Leon, sometimes, when she was determined to not fall within the constraints of what it meant to be Champion. Leon still had nightmares about that, sometimes. 

“Sure,” Raihan replied, shaking his head, “I mean, what else is going to happen today? It can’t possibly get weirder.” 

“Oh, don’t say that, dear, someone might take it as a challenge,” Lyra replied, still grinning that terrible grin of hers, before she turned her attention back to Red and Blue. “All set.” 

Red nodded, rather than speak, and at this point Leon was pretty convinced he just straight _didn’t_ speak at all. 

“Round one!” Blue announced, with the strength of voice of a professional referee, which he might actually be, Leon wasn’t sure, his research on the Battle Tree had yielded significantly more about Piers’ estranged family than the owners themselves. 

There was a lot about Blue, in volume, but all of it was the same scant few factoids repeated at nauseum – former Champion of the Indigo League, former Gym Leader of Viridian City, viciously strong, always competitive, had created the Battle Tree two years before the Alola League was officially inaugurated – but absolutely nothing about Red. Matter of fact, Leon wouldn’t have known it was owners, plural, if not for Piers. Well, having lived most of his life under the scrutiny of being a public figure, Leon understood the value in being invisible that way. Felt a little jealous of it, even, if he was being honest. 

But that meant he had no measure to even guess what the battle was going to be like, and that only made it more exciting. There was tension in the air, the sort that implied a story he was definitely not privy to. 

Red sent out a pikachu, that landed with a confident sound onto the field that couldn’t be described as anything else but a roar. For her part, Lyra threw out a crobat, a pokemon Leon had never actually ever seen in person, and only knew vaguely because Sonia had been fond of drawing that evolutionary line when they were children. Wordlessly – no words were necessary – they attached: crobat outsped pikachu, delivering a devastating blow with acrobatics, but pikachu survived enough to strike back with a thunder, and despite how tough it looked, crobat went out in one hit. 

“Point to Red,” Blue announced, rather unnecessarily. 

Leon theorized he just liked the sound of his own voice. 

The second match up was Red’s lapras and Lyra’s ampharos – Leon recognized that one from one of the skaters he fought, back in Kalos, though that one hadn’t been nearly as strong: Lyra’s obliterated Red’s lapras with a zap cannon in what struck Leon as a bit of… overkill, actually. 

After the third round – which went to Lyra, despite Leon’s expectations, as her bug-type pokemon somehow one-shot Red’s snorlax with a close combat – Leon began to understand the reasoning for this particular format: at such high levels, regular battles put unnecessary strain on their pokemon, considering encounters were seemingly determined in one turn. There was no setup, no long term strategy, only raw, blunt strength. It was fascinating, and unlike any kind of battle he’d ever experienced before. 

Fourth and fifth rounds went to Red – his venusaur defeated Lyra’s own grass type with hyper beam, when her giga impact missed, and his blastoise defeated her fire type, with a merciless hydro pump – so the best Lyra could hope for, in the last round, was a tie. Red sent out his charizard – the same charizard that Leon had battled that morning – while Lyra sent out yet another pokemon that Leon had never seen before, a water type to complete the trio. 

“Kudos on you,” Lyra said, grinning widely, “for fighting til the end.” 

Red’s charizard knew blast burn, something Leon had learned the hard way earlier that day. It was a taxing move to use, and it left one open for counterattack. But, Leon realized, if you were fighting one turn rounds, that didn’t really matter. Despite the type disadvantage, Leon would have been willing to bet on Red taking the victory, but something in Lyra’s tone set the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 

Her pokemon, a large, reptile-looking thing that had a rather mean air all truth told, opened its maws and countered the blast burn with a hydro cannon. They met at the center of the field, held in balance for a split second, and then the torrent of high speed water overwhelmed the searing inferno and crushed Red’s charizard in one hit, causing it to fall over, fainted, for the second time that day. 

“Point to Lyra,” Blue said, almost sulkily. “Match’s a draw.” He paused only long enough to roll his eyes. “Again.” 

“Still better than the alternative,” Lyra pointed out, grinning in the face of Red’s unamused stare, which Leon noticed was a significantly different attitude than he’d shown Leon earlier, upon their draw. “Now then, who wants tea and scones?” 

Leon wondered if it’d be impolite to ask for a shot of whiskey in his. 

Or Raihan’s. 

Raihan definitely looked like he could use one of those. 

* * *

Leon woke up early, because it was the sort of thing he did. He and Raihan had ended up staying in Postwick, on account of his mother refusing to let them go without feeding them, and then it was late and honestly, it’d been too ridiculous a day to even fight anything at that point. Leon woke up early and helped his mum with breakfast, and then Raihan woke up four hours later, and ate said breakfast and by then it was late enough they might as well stay for lunch and take the train back to Hammerlocke in the afternoon. Raihan got sucked into plant care with Leon’s dad, and Leon, after getting shoo’d out of his mum’s kitchen and leaving a gaggle of baby dragons in her care, wandered about and found himself playing tag with Nat most of the morning. 

Inevitably, they came back to solid ground, where Gloria was waiting to meet them. 

“So it’s official, huh,” Leon asked, as they sat on a bench behind the house, Nat sprawled gracelessly nearby, and watched Victor stomp about towards the furthest edges of the property, where his stable of salamances were sunbathing in the late morning sun. 

Crucially, walking right behind him, was a certain stubborn legendary dog that had spent a few months vacationing in Raihan and Leon’s home. 

“Not official, no,” Gloria replied with a little shrug, “but that’s just a matter of time. Hop’s been trying to make friends with him.” 

“That’s good,” Leon sighed, smiling, “Victor seems like the kind of person who could use a good friend or two.” 

Gloria gave him a look that he didn’t know how to parse, and then sighed. 

“It keeps things interesting here,” Gloria said, looking up at the sky thoughtfully. “So I reckon that’s enough.” She gave him a side-look. “Thank you, by the way, for the Isle of Armor trip. It was… illuminating.” 

Leon didn’t bother to pretend he hadn’t been responsible. 

“You’d been quiet, for a while,” he said, which wasn’t a lie, strictly speaking, but also not his primary reason for sponsoring that little adventure, he supposed. “Reckoned you could use the change in scenery.” 

“It was fun,” Gloria said, and then smiled. “I think… I think I’m happy, where I am. Doing what I’m doing. I’ve got Marnie and Hop, after all, to keep me on my toes. And that’s enough, I think.” 

“That’s nice,” Leon said, because it was, but deep down, he admitted to the curl of petty jealousy in the back of his throat. 

It wasn’t her fault, of course, she hadn’t lived the life he did. She never had to bend herself under the weight of expectations like he had – she had refused to do so, and he had tried his best to spare her, too – so she didn’t have his restlessness. She didn’t wake up every day and second guessed her happiness, the way he did. 

He was getting better at it, in a lot of ways, but in others, he was also resigned to the fact that… that just was who he was. He worried about things and got anxious about decisions and the consequences thereof. It was entirely possible that he was going to live like this, forever. And it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, just… different, than how other people lived. That was okay. It was okay that they were different and didn’t share the same worries or anxieties, even if they’d both once shared the burden of the Champion. 

It was fine. 

“Blue already told you, probably,” Leon said, keeping his eyes in the distance, where Victor was fussing with a large salamance, “but the reason they’re here is because I’m thinking of starting an… off season sort of challenge. Not necessarily affiliated with the League, but… you know, battling for the sake of battling. For the fun of it.” 

Gloria hummed in the back of her throat and said nothing for an almost uncomfortably long time. 

“Hey,” she said, after a while, almost as if she were waking up, “Leon?” 

“Yes?” 

“Let’s have a battle.” 

Leon won. 

He shouldn’t have, he didn’t think, but he did. She should be so much stronger, by then: bonded to Nat, trained at the Master Dojo. She’d been a fearsome opponent, two years prior, someone he’d fought with his all – he’d let go, that time, he’d let go, in the Stadium, under the roaring scream of the crowd, because he’d survived Eternatus’ rage and Rose’s betrayal, and there was now someone there, finally, someone strong enough to take his crown, and he’d _let go_ and never looked back – and who’d proven his all was not enough. 

And yet. 

“It’s the ambition for it,” Gloria had said, before they parted ways, “the desperate need to win, I don’t think I have that anymore. I don’t know that I would trade back for it, either.” 

Leon nodded in understanding, even though he very much didn’t, and then headed back to his parents’ house to pick up Raihan and head home. In a day or two, when they were done catching up, Blue had promised to call and follow up on his original request, to answer Leon’s questions about how the Battle Tree worked and what went into it, properly. There wasn’t really any reason for them to remain, and they both had duties waiting for them back at the Gym. 

“Rai?” Leon asked, as they stepped out of the train station, that evening. 

“Yeah?” Raihan replied, holding an armful of plants Leon’s dad had given him for his trouble. “What’s up, baby?” 

“Thank you,” Leon said, looking up at him in an entirely newfound light, “for never giving up on defeating me.” 

Raihan grinned. 

“Of course I’m never going to give up _that_ ,” he said, eyes bright. “The stronger you get, the more amazing it’s going to be, when I _destroy_ you.” 

Leon felt the bubbling euphoria in the pit of his stomach and wondered if Raihan would be game for a battle, despite the fact it wasn’t Saturday, and the pitch back in the Stadium was _already_ in shambles. 

“I love you,” he said, instead, because it was _fine_ to be different from others, but he was infinitely grateful to have found a kindred soul in Raihan. 

* * *

“Good battle challenges need two things,” Blue explained, as he walked along the edge of the highest platform atop Rose Tower. “A good gimmick, to keep things interesting, and prestige to get people talking about it.” 

They had walked the entirety of the tower, with Blue making comments about design and structure every step of the way, which Leon’s rotom had been taking dictation of after the first time Blue roughly pulled him off the air and pointed him at something to take a picture. Leon was past the point of really complaining or even noting on the seemingly rude behavior: he reckoned it was just Blue being… well, Blue. Besides, he was here to do him a favor, so he couldn’t exactly get hung up on his methods. Whatever else could be said about him, he did run a very successful operation in the Battle Tree, and Leon needed all the help he could get, considering he knew next to _nothing_ about doing that. 

“Dynamaxing can be your gimmick,” Blue went on, turning around to give Leon a shrewd look, “it is, after all, your regional specialty. But prestige comes from your challengers available. Your boyfriend in to help?” 

Leon blinked, not having expected that digression. 

“Yes?” He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question, but Blue’s attitude had that effect on people, he supposed. 

“Good,” Blue said, nodding approvingly, “there’s a good chunk of people in the international circuit that’d give up their right hand for a chance to fight Galar’s Dragon Tamer. Him being available in your top circuit could be publicity on its own.” Leon had a strange twinge of déjà vu, regarding that, but reckoned Raihan would probably be game for that, considering that’s exactly how he’d been using Leon for a while now. “But you’re still not going to get this thing off the ground with your ridiculous dex restrictions, though. Most of the competitive scene would be straight up blacklisted by your League. Do you know the Chairman of your League? Are they someone you can bully into doing things your way? Because it straight up won’t work, if people have to go through the same hoops _we_ did, just to get into the region.” 

Leon opened his mouth to begin explaining the rather convoluted relationship he had with the League, winced at the thought of trying to get all that without Blue talking all over him, and then closed his mouth with a wince. 

“Look, you have to work with your League,” Blue said, misunderstanding Leon’s expression. “I had it easy in Alola, admittedly, because my Battle Tree predated their League by a good few years, so it wasn’t like they could come in and fight me or put on regulations that hurt me without hurting themselves. I bring in people by the buckets and they know it. But your League is very well established, they’re not going to bend backwards for you. So before you start thinking about remodeling this place, reach out to your League. Make a proposal. Aim for autonomy but not complete separation from your League. Who knows, they might give you a grant or two, to help you kick the place off.” 

“Money’s not an issue, really,” Leon said, resisting the urge to snort, because out of all the possible problems he could face, running out of funding was definitely not one of them. 

“You never know, every little bit helps,” Blue insisted, eyebrows arched. “But as it is, you want to get your League onboard to grant you an exception to the dumb dex restrictions. It’d be better if they overturned them entirely, since no other League has native dex restrictions anymore, _anywhere_. But I get the feeling you Galarian folk are traditionalists, so that might take a while. Baby steps is fine.” He smirked arrogantly. “Tell you what, you do the hard bit, and I’ll let you in on my contractor network to spruce up this place and set it up right.” 

“I’ll talk with Mia about it,” Leon said, smiling wryly. “The Chairman of my League,” he added, when Blue stared at him, clearly not sure who Mia was. Leon smiled brighter, bordering on beaming. “Thank you for coming all the way here, I really appreciate your help.” 

“Eh, it wasn’t for you,” Blue replied, waving a hand dismissively. “I reckoned it’d be okay to visit the one region we hadn’t yet, for our anniversary. Lyra being here was a nice surprise, too.” 

“It’s your anniversary?” Leon asked, blinking. 

“Fourteen years and counting, yeah,” Blue replied, flashing Leon a victory sign, “Thursday on the dot.” 

“Congratulations!” Leon replied, now actively, purposefully beaming. “Do you have an itinerary? Or any plans for what places to visit?” 

Blue shrugged. 

“Not really,” he replied, and then arched an eyebrow. “Got any suggestions?” 

“Better,” Leon said, reaching out to beckon rotom down from where he’d decided to float, to avoid Blue snatching him up again. “I’ve got a _Carl_.” 

“A what now?” 

“Best Corviknight Taxi in all Galar,” Leon boasted, waiting for Carl to pick up his phone. “Guaranteed. He’ll take you to all the good spots. I’ll pick up the tab, too, for that. As a thank you for your help.” 

Blue arched both eyebrows. 

“If you think I’m going to be gracious and say no, pal, you’ve got another thing coming.” 

Leon’s grin could power a solar grid when Carl finally answered. 

* * *

Leon’s intention, of course, was to start working on the proposal for the League immediately and get it out as soon as possible. 

He was very familiar with that kind of paperwork, and the process required to submit such a thing to the Chairman for consideration. Sure, it was the sort of tedious thing that included twenty million different details, and had to be proofread over and over again… but he _knew_ how that worked. He knew. 

The problem, of course, was the time for it. 

In that he didn’t have any. 

Sure, workload in the Gym had gone down, significantly, with the inclusion of the new batch of trainers, but Leon still monopolized the enclosure tasks as often as he could, if nothing else because he enjoyed hanging out with the dragons in it. And the truth of the matter was that he was a _senior_ Gym Trainer, now. At least in comparison to the new ones, so he spent a good chunk of time helping them out as best he could. Then there were the baby dragons under his care: the goomy were independent little troublemakers, big enough to hide away in all sorts of places the moment Leon took his eyes off them, but still infinitely squishy… even by goomy standards. As for the baby duralodon, Raihan had determined that it would be Seb’s, eventually, but first Leon needed to finish rearing him, which was in itself a full adventure. Seb tried to help, of course, but the little guy was nervous and scared of everything, and he stared bawling for Leon every time Seb’s goodra tried to give him a hug. 

He was lucky if he got an hour or two, when they got home, to dedicate almost exclusively towards all the research he needed to do before he could start drafting the actual wording. It’d been a while since he’d done anything like that, used that kind of words, per se, so that took some time as well. But it was something he could do, he was absolutely sure, he had the skill and the knowledge and _he could do this_. 

This wasn’t a crazy, impulsive, knee-jerk decision anymore, it was something he was going to see through, somehow. 

“I could help, you know? With the research bits.” Raihan told him one day, lying as long as he was on the couch, head propped up on Leon’s thigh, so Leon could dig his fingers into his hair and very gently massage his skull. “It’s not like I don’t have an entire degree in that. Wrote a whole book and all, a while back, you might recall.” 

Leon smiled. 

“I know,” he said, “but I want to do this myself. I want… it’s like your book, I think. I want this to be mine. It’s my own dumb idea and I want to see it through, but I’m still not sure it’s going to work. I don’t want you to waste your time on something that… might not actually work out.” 

“That makes sense,” Raihan said, nodding slowly, which really translated to rubbing his face against Leon’s thigh. 

“It does?” 

This was news to Leon, obviously. Raihan snickered. 

“I remember, when I first became Gym Leader and I inherited from Delilah, I changed a lot of things around the Gym, before my first Gym Challenge. And I felt exactly that way, about every single one of them. But it was worth it, I reckon, because most of them worked out. It made me stop feeling scared of my post, and what it meant to have my post, if that makes sense.” 

“But you’re an excellent Gym Leader,” Leon blurted out, blinking. “Always have been, from day one.” Raihan was smirking at him rather slyly, like he knew something Leon didn’t. “You’re so comfortable and confident and—” 

“I mean, I am, now,” Raihan replied, shrugging. “But I really wasn’t, when I was fifteen. I didn’t know what it meant, to be Gym Leader. Not really. I did what felt right, but there were so many things that Delilah never explained, and my only other role model, as far as Gym Leaders went, was Lydia, whose advice was always, fuck it, do whatever, it’s your Gym and they can’t say shit about it.” 

“That does sound like Lydia, yes,” Leon replied, snorting. “But—” 

“A while ago, you said you didn’t understand, what inheritance was like, for the oldest five,” Raihan said, shifting about until he was lying on his side and Leon’s fingers had migrated from his head down to his neck, to worry at the ever present little knot of stress right at the nape there. “Well, here’s how it works: At age fifteen, being the dumbest moron I knew, Delilah Burnet adopted me into her family, all formal and stuff, and then named me her heir before she retired and went off to spend the rest of her days and the not insignificant stipend she gets from Hammerlocke itself, living the good life and annoying Drayden, which I think it’s her definition of living the good life.” Raihan snorted. “And so, from one day to the next, I became the youngest of three siblings, the eldest two of whom promptly abdicated their claims to Hammerlocke, landing me square with two things: a whole ass Gym that I was responsible for, before the League, and a fancy chair reserved for me in city hall.” Raihan wasn’t exactly looking at him, but Leon nonetheless nodded, because Raihan had never talked about this sort of thing before, and he wanted to listen to every word. “So the Gym is… not easy, but at least it’s not politics. I’ve got metrics to meet, before the League, and so long as I meet them, the League will recognize me as a Gym and give me a tidy little budget to fund whatever shenanigans I come up with, to meet those metrics. Most of that is brand awareness and encouraging kids all around Hammerlocke and the villages surrounding us to pick up a pokemon and go on the Gym Challenge. The fancy chair in city hall is an entirely different can of worms and it mostly means I’m real careful about what I say in public or as part of public record, because it turns out a lot of people’s lives depend on the decisions made at city hall, and it doesn’t matter what I do or don’t about it, I’m the one face they know, so everything, and I do mean _everything_ is and will forever be my fault, particularly if they don’t like it.” 

“That sounds a little unfair,” Leon said, aiming for delicate and not quite sure he landed right, what with the sound Raihan made. 

“The really stupid thing is that I have theoretically infinity plus one power, while simultaneously having no power at all, when it comes to the fancy chair in city hall,” Raihan explained, rolling his eyes. “I can veto anything they want to do. Literally anything, for any reason. If I say no, it’s no, and tough luck, they have to rework whatever they want from scratch. That’s the power the oldest, most powerful families in Galar have, those who claim to have served the first King… well, Kings. When the League was founded and we stopped being, you know, bloody medieval, the whole feudal thing kind of fell by the wayside, but on paper we _still_ own the land, and the grandiose compromise that allowed for actual modern governance was that we don’t have the power to _propose_ legislation or changes to existing one, but we can be dicks and say no to things people want to do, if we go to city hall and sit on the designated fancy chair and invoke our right to do it with a lot of thee and thou thrown in, for emphasis.” He snorted. “But of course people don’t really care about that. Or even bother to research it, either. Not that it’s very hard to find out, it’s like… right there, in the About page about me, in Hammerlocke’s site, and there’s like fourteen separate pages in the different government sites. Plus it’s in the school curriculum. You literally learn it in school. I’d know, I learned it too! When I was nine! We had to do a family tree of the blasted Hammerlocke Lords and Ladies of the past three centuries.” He rolled his eyes. “But no, every bloody thing that comes out of city hall they don’t like? It’s my fault. Of course it is, I’m the goddamn Lord of Hammerlocke, not saying no to it means I wholeheartedly support it. And sure, in places like Circhester or Spikemuth or Ballonlea, their Lords and Ladies do rule a bit, but that’s mostly because their people love them so much they actively ask them and get them involved in the whole ruling thing.” Raihan stopped there, for a moment, almost considering, and then let go, the same way he’d been doing, ever since that day in Rose Tower, not looking at Leon in the eye. “But Circhester or Spikemuth or Ballonlea are several goddamn orders of magnitude smaller than Hammerlocke, and I will deny having said this under torture or oath, but solving problems for villagers is significantly less messy than trying to solve the problems of the freaking largest city in the entire continent. And no, Wyndon doesn’t count, because most of it are essentially barracks for Macro Cosmo or League employees, rather than private individuals. There. I said it.” Raihan blinked, frowning. “I forgot where I was going with this.” 

Leon burst out laughing. 

“I love you,” he said, tugging Raihan up at the same time he leaned down, so he could kiss him. 

“Well good,” Raihan replied, in something of a bratty mutter, before melting under Leon’s hands. “Someone should.” 

And well, what was Leon supposed to do, but put aside his research and endeavor to make sure Raihan felt exactly as loved as he was? Anything less would be unacceptable. 

* * *

After much work and research, Leon presented the somewhat cohesive plan of action he’d put together, to remodel Rose Tower and turn it into a Battle Tower Challenge for the off season of the League. He’d carefully considered all possible angles he could think of: sponsorships and revenue streams and staffing and impact on League key metrics and _more_. It was one of the most thorough things he’d ever done in his life, putting all his knowledge of the League and all his hopes for Galar’s battling scene into it. 

Mia rejected it. 

Not for any specific mistake Leon made in it, really, or because she didn’t like it – she did, in fact, like it a lot, and she told him so repeatedly both in person and in the official rejection he received – but because it was not viable without overturning the dex limitations currently in place, and that wasn’t something Mia could do on her own, just because her predecessor came asking for it. 

Leon knew that, and had in fact actively been expecting it. It was a strategy, like in battle, when you sacrificed one of your teammates to setup the field just right, so you could sweep through your opponent with the advantages they gave you. Mia couldn’t possibly approve his proposal, because beneath the supposed purpose – gain League approval and support to start the Battle Tower project – what it really was, was a proposal to get rid of the dex limitation by showing off what sort of nice things they could have, if they did. But in rejecting the proposal, Mia would have a chance to outline the League’s requirements to revoke the dex rule, and thus make Leon’s project actually viable. 

But even knowing all that, being prepared for it, getting the actual rejection _hurt_. 

It hurt to read the formal listing of all the things he’d done wrong or were missing, and the list of requirements to reconsider his project felt looming and almost impossible to overcome. 

Leon gave himself a whole weekend to mope and sulk about it, and then, come Monday set out to research how to address the remediation plan to make his proposal viable. The main thing about it was the requirement, agreed upon by both the board and the relevant government areas affected by the dex restrictions, for a certified ranger environmental evaluation confirming that lifting dex restrictions was not going to have any detrimental impacts on the state of Galar’s pokemon populations. It sounded very simple and straightforward in paper, except for the bit where Leon knew for a fact that Rose had quarreled viciously with the head of the Ranger corps and she had outright _banned_ ranger presence in Galar, coincidentally, around the same time Rose had implemented the dex limitation rules during his first year as Chairman, as part of his reformation efforts for the League. 

Leon was fairly confident he could make his case and possibly reverse that ban, if he got a chance to talk with someone in the Ranger corps, but he was back to the infuriating realization that he didn’t _have_ a network, outside Galar, to help him reach out. 

In fact, the only person he knew that had any sort of contact with Rangers was… 

Well. 

“Piers?” Leon asked, and knew better than to make small talk, considering Piers was in the middle of recording season. “Your friends from Alola, the ones with the boat. You said they were rangers, right?” 


	14. first steps into the rest of our lives

Galar’s International Airport was significantly more daunting to navigate on his own, than it had been, the year prior, with Raihan and the triplets along for the ride. Nonetheless, Leon tried his best: he arrived almost six hours earlier than he needed to, and relied on teamwork with his pokemon to navigate the maze of corridors and waiting rooms. He reached his gate two hours earlier and made friends with the lady behind the counter, in the hopes she’d remember him, and maybe call him when it was time. It was nerve wracking in a way few things had ever been, in his life, the whole thing: he was alone, all on his own, and he had to make do just like everyone else. There was usually someone, Leon thought, Raihan or Seb or _someone_ who knew how easily he got lost and how much he didn’t do it on purpose, to help him navigate such things. Except now. He sat at the end of a long row of chairs, as close to the gate and the nice lady with the cute airline hat that was manning the desk as he could, and distracted himself by petting charizard’s head and fingering her horns nervously while he waited. He didn’t want to risk people watching – he loved people watching, he always did – because what if he got distracted and the flight started boarding and he wasn’t there? What if he missed it? 

He was panicking, of course, and he recognized it with that detached certainty that felt utterly useless in such situations, because knowing he was panicking did nothing to make him _stop_ panicking. 

He texted Raihan, instead. He said nothing about how freaked out he suddenly was, and yet somehow Raihan intuited it enough to remind him he didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to. That he could go home and wait, and plan it out calmly. Leon didn’t want to, though. He didn’t want to. He didn’t know if he could afford to wait. And reaffirming that, to Raihan and himself, was good enough to help him navigate his anxiety and wait, which he supposed was just another example of Raihan saying the right thing at the perfect time. 

Leon did not allow himself to relax until he was seated on the plane, holding onto charizard’s ultraball like a talisman to ward off evil. But once the plane took off, he melted back into his seat, sighing. 

Piers had haggled with him, for his help, but they had reached an agreement. And then he’d told Leon he had very counted hours to reach Alola and catch his friends while they were restocking supplies, before they set out for the winter and didn’t come back for six or seven months. Raihan couldn’t drop everything and come with him, and truth be told, he really didn’t either. But if he waited, he stood to risk Mia’s term ending before he could contact them and then he’d have to start from scratch. It’d felt dire, as he hastily sorted out his stuff, preparing for the flash trip to Alola, like the entirety of the project depended on this working out, even though surely it didn’t. Surely, there were more sensible avenues for him to work on this. Surely he could figure something out if he had to wait. 

But he didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to languish in place. He’d set himself a goal and he wasn’t the kind of person who dithered. He did what needed to be done, always. There was an anxious drive in him, to get things done as soon as he figured out how to do them. It’s just how he’d always lived his life, and he didn’t really think he needed to change that, now. 

He fell asleep, at some point, because he woke up when the plane landed, and he found himself instinctively pressing his face to the window, trying to take it all in at once. He went through picking up his luggage and letting out his team to stretch while he called Raihan and his mother to inform them he’d arrived in one piece and on time. It was encouraging. 

Then he’d been told flying on charizard was not allowed and by the time he was able to faceplant into the bed at his hotel room, after a few hours of arguing and jumping through hoops – literally, in this instance to prove his partner was not a public hazard – had elapsed. He’d meant to spend the day exploring the island and making a delivery for Raihan, but he supposed he’d have to do that after meeting with the Rangers. Leon ordered room service and ate dinner with the balcony door of his room wide open, his team scattered around the room, eating or napping themselves. The view was fantastic, of course, and even on a high floor as he was, he could still hear the roll of the ocean. But he wished Raihan was there with him, to enjoy it. 

And then one thought stumbled into another – Sonia and Nessa’s chosen honeymoon destination was Unova, but for a while there, before they settled on it, Alola had been a strong contender – and Leon found himself wondering what Raihan would like, for a honeymoon. 

It was a dumb thought. Nonsense. He was getting ahead of himself and he knew it. He’d never really let himself wonder about that kind of thing, because there was one very clear impediment for him to entertain that kind of thought, and it was the fact he’d have to _ask_ and then Raihan would have to answer. And he wanted to ask, of course. He’d only been wanting to ask for almost a year, now, but he still wasn’t sure he was ready. Not quite. He wasn’t sure he could handle Raihan saying no, like his mum had told him to sort out. And he didn’t think he was there yet, feeling like he and Raihan were on equal footing, just yet, like Mustard had pointed out. But constantly helping Sonia with details about her wedding, the tedious and exciting and boring and _all of it_ , it kept nagging at him. Sonia and Nessa seemed to both have a pretty strong idea of what they wanted and how they wanted to go about things; they’d been dating for at least five years, before they decided to get married. And sure, Sonia was never going to let Leon live down the fact him believing some dumb tabloid nonsense was the catalyst for them to start seriously talking about it, but they _had,_ at some point, talked about it. 

Leon had a hard time picturing himself and Raihan talking about that sort of thing, and in one of those weird moments that felt like a dumb realization in hindsight, the sort of thing he should have always known, but at least he knew now… he realized that was probably why he wasn’t ready to ask yet. 

Before he could do something sensible, like jumping out of the balcony in sheer mortification or perhaps press his hands into his face so hard his nose was permanently smushed, rotom chirped at him, and produced roughly forty pictures of the baby dragons he’d left back home, all with Raihan grinning and posing somewhere in the frame. 

“C’mon,” Leon said, putting away his tray with the remnants of his dinner, and sitting at the edge of the bed, which was immediately invaded by his pokemon the moment he patted the free space with his hand. “Let’s take a picture to send Raihan!” 

Wish you were here, Leon typed as he sent it, and then he buried his face into the pillows and tried to wish himself to disappear for a bit, because he was, in fact, an idiot. 

* * *

Leon had only ever met one Ranger in his life so far, and she’d chewed him out for wandering around Kalos, looking for ghost-related stuff, so he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. 

He’d set out bright and early to Ula’ula island, riding on charizard – he could have taken a boat, but he had spent significant time getting her certified for flight and they’d never flown over the ocean like that, so he might as well – and he’d managed to find his way to the right beach sometime in the early afternoon. He’d found an entirely different beach upon arrival, and he’d gotten sidetracked exploring the ruins of what appeared to be a super market nearby: he’d cooked lunch by the shore and fed a small contingent of curious and somewhat playful ghosts that seemed significantly less… for lack of better wording, likely to eat someone, than he was used to. There was a ghost trial in the island, from what he’d researched, so perhaps the person in charge was responsible for keeping the ghosts there happy and well-meaning. It was nice. One day, when he wasn’t under strict and explicit instructions to not disturb the island’s Kahuna or any of his Captains, lest he invoked Piers’ wrath, he’d like to reach out and meet them. But that was fodder for another trip. 

Leon wandered around the island routes, trying to find the beach where the Rangers were supposed to be moored for restocking, and realized he was actively making plans for the future, with the offhand confidence that came with the certainty that he _could_ make plans for the future. It was novel, because he’d struggled with that, back when he’d first started therapy. One of the first things Dr. Vale had asked him was where he saw himself, in a couple years, and Leon had floundered for an answer, unsure what that meant. 

Huh. 

And then, as he chewed on that thought, he found himself standing on a pier, watching two people in very much not Ranger outfit, hauling boxes into a boat. 

“Hi!” Leon said, waving as he approached, unconsciously sliding into peppy PR mode almost without thinking. “Kell, right?” 

“…can I help you?” The Ranger closest to him said, pausing to lean against the stack of crates they were moving to give Leon a dubious look. 

“I’m Leon,” Leon said, coming to a stop before them, offering a hand to shake. “From Galar.” 

The Ranger stared at him for a moment, then at his hand, then back up at him. They had long, dark green hair and an expression best described as squintingly polite. 

“Congratulations?” They replied after a moment, very much not shaking Leon’s hand. 

Leon did not wilt, nonetheless. He had sixteen years of PR handling under his belt, after all. 

“Piers sent me,” he added, not hopefully, because he knew better, but still relatively upbeat. 

The Ranger’s expression turned, if possible, even squintier. 

“…uh huh?” They hummed, clearly doubtful, pushing away from the crate stack to stand up to their full height, which was a few solid inches more than Leon’s. 

Leon stared up at them for an uncomfortably long moment during which neither said anything, and then he sighed, reaching up to pinch his nose. 

“…he didn’t tell you I was coming, did he,” Leon said, not asked, in a decidedly not PR approved chipper tone. 

The Ranger snorted. 

“Nope.” 

Leon made a mental note to maybe hug Piers less and strangle him more, next time they met. 

“Right,” he said, shaking his head. “So… can I buy you and your sister lunch? I have a business proposal I’d like to discuss with you.” 

They looked down at him for a long moment, considering, and then snorted again. 

“Ah, what the hell,” they said, shrugging. “Free food is free food, right?” 

Despite it all, Leon laughed. 

* * *

Lunch went pretty smoothly, but only after Leon called Piers – it was approximately four in the morning, in Galar – and put him on speaker so the Rangers could hear him complain bitterly about Leon waking him up. After hanging up, Leon outlined the requirements necessary to reject the dex limitations in Galar. He knew enough of the jargon to get the point across, but when the Rangers started questioning him about details, he found himself defaulting to leaving it to their discretion. Repeatedly. 

“This is months of work, you realize,” Kell said, as they waited on desert to be served. “And that’s months with an actual fully-equipped team working on this, not just the two of us.” 

“Yes,” Leon agreed, with a little shrug. “I don’t really expect you two to do _everything_ on your own, no. You provide leadership and expertise, and I’ll get you whatever resources you need.” 

“That’s a lot of resources,” Neri, Kell’s twin sister and fellow Ranger, pointed out sharply, waving a fork around for emphasis. “And you don’t even represent the League.” 

“Well, yes,” Leon admitted, with a not so little shrug. “Part of the agreement with the League is that this doesn’t come out of their budget. And also because the Galarian League does not have the greatest relationship with the Ranger Corps as a whole. Which the current Chairman of the League is willing and actively working to fix, mind. This is more… a roundabout olive branch to help along with that process, if that makes sense.” 

“Great,” Kell deadpanned, one eyebrow arched, “so this is politics.” 

Leon winced. 

“Previous leadership in the League was not… the most diplomatic, in his approach towards foreign Leagues and other organizations, including the Ranger Corps.” He offered a shaky smile. “We’re all just trying to do our part in fixing that, as best we can.” 

“I mean, there is significant literature proving dex restrictions are pretty stupid,” Neri said, though the comment seemed aimed more at her sibling than at Leon himself. 

“You sound like you want to hire us,” Kell replied, definitely aimed at Leon, and not their sister. “But you still haven’t made an offer on how much you can pay us for it, or what our budget would be.” 

“Oh, that’s because I have absolutely no idea how much would be appropriate,” Leon replied, candid. “I figured I’d just tell you what needs to be done and, if you’re interested on taking the job, you’ll tell me how much it’ll cost.” 

“You realize we could totally overcharge you just for fun, right?” Kell pointed out, leaning in with a suspicious squint on their face. “Take advantage of how little you know about this?” 

“I mean, yes,” Leon said, and laughed in good humor, “but you’re friends with Piers, so I reckon you wouldn’t.” 

He tried not to worry too much, about how hard that seemed to make them laugh. Both of them. 

* * *

The Rangers did not give Leon an answer by the end of lunch, but he wasn’t expecting one. It wasn’t a small thing he was asking, and Galar _was_ blacklisted by the Ranger Corps, so he was very understanding when they said they’d take some time to consider his offer, before giving him a final decision. It was just as well, since he had an errand to run in Melemele island the next day. He was even on time to his appointment, even though it wasn’t strictly speaking an appointment, because he chose to ride on charizard rather than risk getting lost in the twisty routes he could see on the map. It was pretty easy to pinpoint his destination from the air, it was the only building by the shore, close enough to the large city but distinctly apart from it. Leon found himself staring at the roof and walls of the house in trepidation, however, considering how… hastily patched they seemed. The fact that, upon landing before the building, he heard a loud crashing noise, followed by a strangled voice insisting they were fine… well, it didn’t help. 

Leon swallowed hard, slapped his cheeks lightly, as if preparing for a match, and recalled charizard before he rang the doorbell. 

“Hi!” The man who opened the door said, shirtless under his lab coat, beaming brightly. “You must be Leon!” He turned away, “El—” 

Suddenly there was a woman standing there, sliding past him to stare at Leon with bright, inquisitive eyes. 

“Oh? Let’s see, let’s see!” She said, head tilted to the side. “Is this the one attempting to court my baby brother?” Immediately, Leon’s face spontaneously burst into flame – or at least that’s how it felt, from how hard he was blushing. It made her laugh. “I’m kidding! Only not really, but that’s the one baby brother I have. And he made you come all this way, too!” She grinned, mischievous. “Must be serious, yes?” 

“Hi,” Leon croaked in utter embarrassment. “And… yes.” He swallowed hard. “But he didn’t make me come here! I volunteered. Honest! I was just—” 

Elia Burnet, Delilah’s eldest daughter and legally Raihan’s older sister, broke down laughing in amusement at Leon’s attempts to explain himself. It wasn’t mocking laughter, proper, but there was a familiar edge to it that reminded Leon keenly of Hammerlocke’s former Gym Leader. Leon’s face remained as flushed as ever. 

“C’mon,” she said, tugging her husband back and motioning Leon to come inside. “It’s all in good fun, I promise. Han talks so much about you! I’m entitled to one good grilling session without him present, right?” 

Leon did not whimper, because he was determined to face every challenge with bravery. Raihan had put up with his Dad, after all. He could do this. Of course he could! Would. 

…If worse came to worst, all he had to do was give her the parcel Raihan had asked him to deliver and it would be alright, he was sure. After all, no one related to Raihan could be the sort of monster required to be unmoved by the sheer _cuteness_ that was the duralodon-themed onesie that Raihan had sent for his soon to be one year old nephew. 

It was fine. 

* * *

Upon his return from Alola, Raihan put him in charge of the logistics for the Annual Dragon Conference, as it was Hammerlocke’s turn to host the event. 

Most of the broad strokes had been decided upon and sorted out almost a full year in advance, but there were a lot of loose ends to chase after. Leon had a spectacular panic attack at the prospect, and then realized Raihan was giving him something to keep himself occupied so he wouldn’t combust with anxiety awaiting the Ranger’s response. It was the sort of tedious yet important job that would have normally driven Leon to a meltdown at the prospect of screwing up something and making Hammerlocke look bad in anyway, but he couldn’t get to that part because he was stuck on the fact Raihan was being _thoughtful_ of him. So instead he found himself absorbed into the whole thing, but without the anxious fear, because every time he started worrying about it, he remembered _why_ Raihan had put him there in the first place, and then he felt great again. Or at least, not anxiously panicking. 

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” Seb said, sitting with Leon in the staff room and helping with the task of filling up the memorabilia bags that were going to be given to each attendant of the conference. “Planning stuff, I mean.” 

Leon snorted as he shook the shirt in his hands before carefully folding it into a neat little square. 

“I’m really not,” he said, and then found himself smiling, much to his chagrin, “but I did learn from the best.” 

He wondered, not for the first time since he’d been given the list of tasks that needed to be completed before the start of the conference, how Oleana was doing. 

It was funny, he reckoned, how hard it was these days, to really remember why he’d ever not really liked her before. He only knew he did, and he _remembered_ not liking her much, but there wasn’t much to it, once he started digging. And oh, he’d been digging. That was half the stuff he did, in his sessions lately, dig into his memories and poke at the difference between what he remembered, and what he felt, now. It was slightly disconcerting. It should have been terrifying, to realize that his memories were not what he remembered them to be, that the feelings weren’t exactly what he thought they were, but it wasn’t. It felt like the visit to Alola. It felt like progress. 

He wondered how Oleana was doing, what she’d done with herself, in her little cottage in the outskirts of Turffield. 

But she’d asked him to not contact her again, ever. That was a boundary and Leon was good with boundaries, he could respect that. It was fine. 

But he was allowed to wonder and think about it, and he did, a lot. 

“We’re doing a good job, aren’t we?” Seb asked, apropos of nothing, once they had moved onto closing the goodie bags with bright Hammerlocke-colored ribbons. “With the Conference, I mean.” 

“I think so, yeah,” Leon replied, tongue caught between his teeth as he tried to master the art of running the ribbon on the edge of the scissor’s blade to make it all curly and fluffy. It was surprisingly harder than it looked like, if you wanted it to look nice. And Leon wanted it to look perfect. “We’re on schedule so far.” 

“Right,” Seb agreed, nodding slowly. He was significantly faster than Leon at the whole ribbon curling thing, though Leon had been the one to write the personalized cards because his handwriting was better. They were trying to keep the competitiveness friendly, but they needed something to keep themselves amused from the tedium of it all. “It’s just… I had a performance review, last week.” 

“Oh,” Leon said, pausing to look up at Seb, who was frowning at a cheerfully decorated bag with something like trepidation. “…everything okay?” 

“Oh yeah, sure,” Seb replied, almost on reflex. Then he shrugged. “It’s just… You know. Han asked if I was planning to stay. Like… long term.” 

“Right,” Leon said, head tilted to the side. 

“And I said yes, or that at least I’d like to. Make a career of it, you know? Being part of Hammerlocke. Not just… not just a stepping stool, for something else.” Seb swallowed hard. “So Han said I’d be getting more responsibilities, around the Gym.” 

“I mean, we _are_ senior trainers this year,” Leon pointed out, in what he hoped was a conspiratorial way, but in the camaraderie way, not the evil kind that ended up with people getting hurt. He was still trying to get the hang of that. Mostly, he wanted to remind Seb that he too was here to stay in Hammerlocke, for as long as Raihan wanted him there, anyway. 

Seb stared at him for a moment, blinking, and then smiled. 

“We are, aren’t we?” He pushed his glasses up his nose, looking pleased with himself. “We’re going to have to try our best to prove it.” 

“That’s right!” Leon offered a thumbs up. “We’re going to be the best senior trainers in the league, honestly.” 

“I mean, obviously,” Seb replied, rolling his eyes tauntingly, “Hammerlocke has to have the best of _everything_.” 

* * *

It wasn’t until later, when Seb had gone to attend his first meeting with the Macro Cosmo representatives that came to monitor the performance of the power plant, and Leon was left to sort out the completed bags into boxes for storage, that he realized why Seb had asked him that: there were bags for Aria, Gym Leader of Blackthorn City, and Camilla, assistant researcher from Littleroot. 

It wasn’t the same, of course. It could never be the same. But he wondered if he’d felt the same thing Leon did, walking down the streets in Wyndon and stumbling upon a bookshop whose entire storefront was covered in copies of Sonia’s book. That weird insecure feeling that came with seeing those you loved succeed and then wonder if you weren’t stalling out, yourself. Getting left behind. Leon found himself chewing on that thought for a while after he finished putting away the commemoration gifts for the Conference. He kept it rolling between his ears even as he taught the newer trainers the delicate process of coaxing Hubris into letting herself get bathed and how to go about it without losing a finger or three. All the way through cooking dinner and watching Raihan leave a clean plate behind. 

“I have a request,” Leon said, sitting at the table and watching Raihan wrap up the washing after dinner. “But I don’t know if I’m allowed to make it.” 

“I mean, the worst that could happen is that I say no,” Raihan replied, carefully stacking the plates into the corresponding cabinet. “Shoot.” 

Leon chewed on his lip for a moment, contemplating the best way to word things and also enjoying the shapeless warmth in the pit of his stomach at the realization that their kitchen looked very much lived in and well-used now, as opposed to what it had been like, when he first arrived. It was selfish to notice, yes, but he reminded himself, he was allowed to be selfish about things. He was allowed to occupy space in Raihan’s life, just the same way he carved out places for Raihan to exist in his. It was good, and it was okay to think it was good. 

“I think you should put Seb in charge of the newer trainers,” Leon said, and tried not to wilt when Raihan startled, clearly taken by surprise by the nature of the request itself. “I mean, officially. He’s already providing guidance and support. And so am I, but I think it should be… I don’t know. Official.” 

“You want me to single him out,” Raihan replied, leaning against the counter, hands on the edges and frown on his face. “Like he’s special.” 

Leon chewed his lip some more. 

“Isn’t he?” 

Raihan shrugged. 

“If I told you I’m considering taking him as my official heir, would you be surprised?” 

“Oh,” Leon said, very much surprised, and unsure what to do with the knowledge. Then he frowned. “But you haven’t decided.” 

“He hasn’t, either,” Raihan pointed out, with a little shrug for emphasis. “Inheritance is… it’s a lot. I’m sure whoever inherits from me won’t have nearly as rough a time of it as I did, but we’re _still_ Hammerlocke. It’s still weighty. It’s not a thing to be done lightly. I think Seb would be a good candidate to be my heir: he knows how to run the Gym well enough, and he’s getting stronger and stronger every day. But he has to want it. I don’t think he really knows what he wants, just yet.” 

“Does he know he’s allowed to want it?” Leon asked, head tilted slightly sideways. “Not… not disagreeing with you, either. But if he doesn’t know it’s a possibility, he can’t exactly settle on it, can he?” 

Raihan pursed his lips. 

“I know him, though,” he said, shaking his head, “if I offer it… I’m not sure he’d take it as an option, instead of an expectation. I don’t know if he’d want to wait that long, either.” Raihan laughed, grin lopsided. “I’m still in my prime, you know?” 

Leon grinned back and rolled his eyes teasingly. 

“Don’t _I_ know it.” 

“Hey, hey,” Raihan said, pushing away from the counter, walking over to Leon with the taunting sway in his steps that reminded Leon of a boat at sea. Leon found himself shifting in his seat, feet firmly planted on the ground, so that Raihan could slide into his lap, eyes half-lidded and expression coy, despite the slight creaking of the chair. “Is that a complaint I’m hearing?” 

“Never,” Leon promised, arms dutifully wrapped around his waist. “I love you.” 

Raihan leaned into the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world. Leon had the strange sensation of having his entire world tilt off axis when he came to the realization that it _was_. It was Thursday and already dark out, and they’d just wrapped up dinner but there were still a few more hours before they headed back upstairs, to sleep. That was just what his life was, now, the comforting little routines that anchored him in place. 

“Good,” Raihan breathed into his mouth, voice quiet, as the kiss slid into a natural stop, “’cause I love you too.” 

“I’ll support you,” Leon promised, leaning in to press his lips to the underside of Raihan’s chin, “whatever you decide to do. I’ve got you.” 

Raihan smiled. 

“You do, don’t you?” He let out a long sigh. “You’re not wrong, though. I should probably make Seb’s position… more official. I’ll figure something out.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Leon agreed, and took an arm away from Raihan’s wrist to reach out and grab onto one of his hands. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.” 

“Nah,” Raihan shrugged again, and leaned in to press his lips right at the corner of Leon’s jaw, fangs just barely teasing into his skin. “But I mean, if you’re really broken up about it, Lee, I guess there’s a few ways you can make it up to me.” 

Delighted, Leon laughed, even though that was strictly speaking not quite like how their usual routine went. 

“Is there, now? Do tell.” 

But variety was the spice of life, he supposed. 

* * *

The Rangers’ reply came at three in the morning, on a Wednesday. 

It was four words long and it took Leon about an hour to parse it properly: 

_Yes, be there soon._

He couldn’t stop smiling, once he did. 

* * *

“So?” Sonia asked, stepping out of the bathroom slowly, careful not to snag a fold of cloth into anything as she went. “What do you think?” 

It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a saree. But Leon could see exactly where one had been folded into the design for the dress, and it looked lovely. It suited her really well, he thought, but then that was silly. It had been _made_ for her, so of course it suited her well. He hadn’t been part of the dress hunting party, but his Mum had been, and now there it was, the sum total of months of planning and revising and changing things until it was as close to perfect as they could get it. Even without the fancy hairdo or any of the accessories, Sonia looked pretty radiant, standing barefoot on the carpeted floor of her bedroom in the lab. 

“It looks lovely,” Leon said, beaming, “ _you_ look lovely.” 

“Your Mum kept saying it was okay to use part of the fabric from _her_ wedding dress, for this, and I asked her twenty million times if she was sure about it, but—” 

“It’s traditional,” Leon said, reaching out to pull her into a hug, “for mothers to pass down her wedding gown to their daughters in her family. But my Mum had sons, and you. It’s okay.” 

Sonia clung a little harder, face tucked into his chest. Leon marveled at the fact they got to have this, now, that he’d managed to fix things enough that they _could_. He’d nearly lost this, given it up for something worthless, and the fact she’d let him figure things out and find their place with one another was not to be taken lightly. He regretted a great many things, about how he’d lived his life, but Sonia always had that edge, that hurt the most. They weren’t the friends they had been, once. They weren’t what they _could_ have been, if he’d grown a spine and refused to let himself be bullied into giving up those closest to him. They were something else, entirely, but at the core, they were still friends. 

They were still _there_ , that had to count for something, right? 

“What if it’s too much?” Sonia asked, voice muffled against Leon’s chest, before she pulled back and stared up at him wide eyed. 

The Sonia of his memories had never looked at him like that. The Sonia he’d grew up with was stubborn and willful and fearless above all. She stomped through all possible obstacles and complaints and got things done, no matter what. She was his shelter from the storm, from all storms. He was allowed to be meek and small and scared, because she was there to drag him along and make him confront those fears. But they weren’t that, anymore. They hadn’t been that in forever. 

“Does it make you happy?” Leon asked, reaching out to finger her hair and tuck it behind her ear. 

Sonia swallowed hard. 

“Yes,” she said, shaky, perhaps, but still clear. 

Leon leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

“Then it’s perfect,” he promised, and grinned when it made her laugh. “Nessa won’t know what hit her.” 

“Me, in all likelihood,” Sonia confessed with a little awkward laugh. “More like hit _on_ her, but. You know.” She looked up at Leon and shrugged. “My girlfriend is very pretty, you know?” 

“So I’ve been told, yes,” Leon replied, and finally stepped back enough to let her go. “Are you nervous?” 

“Terrified,” Sonia admitted, shaking her head. “But a lot of it is about today, I guess.” She paused, and then looked up at him, not quite squinting, but definitely hoping for an answer. “You know you don’t have to, right?” 

“No,” Leon replied, nodding, “but I promised.” 

“When you were _four_ ,” Sonia reminded him, and reached a hand to finger _his_ hair, frowning. “We’re very much not four, anymore.” She swallowed hard. “And you always wanted to let your hair grow.” 

“It’s been long for ages now,” Leon pointed out with a shrug, and then smiled. “And it’d mean a lot to you, if I kept that promise.” 

“…kinda, yeah,” Sonia said, and then reached out to smack his shoulder, playful, “you’re not allowed to feel smug about it, though!” 

“I would never,” Leon laughed, in his smuggest laugh, and dodged the next swipe of her hand. “C’mon, you need to changed or we’ll be late!” 

“Ha! That’s rich coming from you,” Sonia snorted, rolling her eyes and stomping back into the bathroom to change, with significantly less nervous care than she’d come out. “You’re always late!” 

“Am not!” Leon whined dramatically, letting himself sit on the edge of her bed, studying the décor of the room while he waited for her to get ready. “I get _lost_ , and I plan accordingly. I’ll have you know I haven’t been late in five years now!” 

“You plan accordingly,” Sonia called out, clearly cackling in disbelief. “Come on, now.” 

“It’s true!” Leon insisted, pouting on reflex. “Most of the time I can find myself again, if I have enough time to sort things out. But if it’s taking too long, I just call Raihan for help.” 

“Remind me to buy Raihan something nice, while we’re out and about,” Sonia said, clearly amused. “Not only is he letting me blow a hole beneath his Vault, but he’s also _living_ with you. Poor man, he’s a saint.” 

“Ow,” Leon said, just as she walked out of the bathroom, back in her usual cardigan and jeans, looking less anxious and more amused. He supposed that was okay, even if it was at his expense. 

“You know you are exactly as bad as implied, you big baby,” Sonia pointed out, eyebrows arched. “If someone knows, it’s me.” 

“I mean, yes, obviously,” Leon laughed, and reached out with a foot to nudge her leg. “But you don’t have to _say_ it, you know?” 

She made sure to look him in the eye, before she rolled hers. It cracked Leon up something awful. They were still playfully bickering as they made their way out of the lab and onto the corviknight taxi waiting dutifully for them right outside. Carl commented on their good mood, and their trip to Wyndon got punctuated by escalating childhood stories. It was fun. 

“You don’t have to,” Sonia insisted, as they found themselves standing outside the hair salon. “I know you said you were going to, and it’d mean a lot to me if you did, but _you don’t have to_.” 

Leon shrugged and reached out to hold her hand in his, for once allowed to be the one to pull her along instead of being the one dragged into trouble. 

“C’mon,” he said, eyes bright, “we don’t want to be late.” 

Despite it all, Sonia laughed. 

* * *

Raihan fell off a chair when he saw him, once he got home. 

“You don’t like it?” Leon asked, unable to keep a slight pout out of his tone as he watched Raihan scramble back upright. 

Leon felt slightly self-conscious about it, considering that felt like a slight overreaction. It was just _hair_ , after all. Hair grew back. 

“No, no, no,” Raihan said, waving his hands in a placating manner. “No, that’s not it. Baby, you look great. It’s just.” He swallowed hard. “Y’know. Different.” 

“It _feels_ different,” Leon admitted a little quietly, reaching up to finger the tips of his hair, which were now _not existent_ , because they’d sheared the whole thing off right at the base of his skull. “It’s just… not there.” 

“Bet your head feels real light now,” Raihan said, nodding along. “It’s just.” His fingers twitched. “Can I—?” 

Leon laughed, feeling his face flush on reflex. 

“Go ahead,” he said, tipping his head forward, baring the back of his head to Raihan’s fingers. They felt nice, when they brushed against what felt like his literal scalp, but they were Raihan’s fingers, so _of course_ they felt nice. “Is it weird that they asked me if I wanted to keep it? The hair they cut off, I mean.” 

“Uh,” Raihan said, in a tone that implied that yes, actually, that was kind of weird, “a little bit? But then, it’s you.” 

Leon tilted his head back so he could squint at Raihan suspiciously. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Raihan grinned and leaned in to kiss Leon, just a quick peck. 

“I’m just saying, don’t go looking online and you will definitely not find someone out there auctioning your hair.” 

Leon stared for a moment and then shuddered. 

“Oh god, they _would_ , wouldn’t they?” He muttered, aghast. 

“I don’t think the place who cut it would,” Raihan said, sympathetically, “but as soon as pictures start circulating, you can bet someone’s going to be weird about it, especially for a pretty penny.” 

Leon let out a long sigh and leaned in to pull Raihan into his arms, tucking his face against his neck. 

“Oh well,” he said after a moment, “it’s done now, anyway.” 

“It looks really good,” Raihan insisted, and pressed a kiss to Leon’s cheek. “It’s just… y’know. Surprising.” 

A very peculiar thing happened, then: Leon found himself on the cusp of blurting out an explanation, of going on in detail about exactly why he’d chosen to do what he’d done… and then didn’t. 

Not because he couldn’t, either. He knew exactly why he did it. He remembered himself, all of four years old, sobbing inconsolably while his Mum did her best to get the gum out of his hair, before his Nan and her scissors came out and she unceremoniously cut off the entire tangled mess. Leon had always liked his hair. He liked the color and the texture and it was one of the things that he’d always acknowledged as _his_ , no matter what. He liked his hair, and he liked it long, and he’d always had. But that day, so many years before, when another of Sonia’s ideas had ended up in disaster, that had been the first time Leon had been truly _hurt_. And when Sonia came by, nudged unrelentingly by her grandmother, Leon had half a mind to not take her apology at all. But then she’d looked at him, seen him still despondent and heartbroken over the whole ordeal, and she’d cut off her own hair before anyone could really realize what had happened. That had been the moment, Leon remembered, that he’d realized they were going to be friends, forever. And yes, every other time, because of course there were many, many other times, when his Nan’s scissors came out and trimmed off ruined bits of his hair, Sonia would volunteer too, and they’d sit there, holding hands. 

Then they’d gone on the Gym Challenge, and he became Champion and she… didn’t. But still. She didn’t cut off her hair, and he didn’t either. It was just… it was just a promise, made by kids, but when she’d told him she wanted to cut off her hair for the wedding, it felt right to do it. It made sense. It was his own apology, of sorts, for fifteen years and change of being a shitty friend, and his commitment to really do better, now. 

Leon stared up at Raihan, stories and memories tangled up in the back of his throat, and realized Raihan would happily take on that if he shared it. That it wouldn’t be a burden at all, for him to know that kind of thing about Leon. But it wasn’t about Raihan. And it wasn’t a secret, but it tasted like one. Like the way Raihan’s camping trips with Piers did. Not bad, just… not his to share. A boundary, perhaps. 

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Leon said, because that was true enough, and then grinned when Raihan burst out laughing. “I don’t know… if I regret it too much I guess I just have to let my hair grow back, right?” 

“You look hot,” Raihan said, bluntly, “I dig it.” 

Leon laughed and blushed and felt… felt like it was alright to be himself, just like that. 

* * *

The wedding was lovely. 

The ceremony itself was a nice, quiet affair with just close friends invited – Leon was still stuck on the fact he was the Best Man and also a close friend, and it felt _great_ – and then the reception itself was a significantly more open affair. If Sonia was something of a celebrity these days, with her book and her avalanche of articles and papers about the History of Galar, Nessa was on an entirely different level. There was a small contingency of press that had to be corralled and kept in place by the staff, on top of a pretty large guest list. Leon – and Raihan, as his plus one – was seated far away enough from that to not really get too much attention, though he’d had to PR his way through an unscripted interview when they arrived at the venue. Most of his job as Best Man revolved around being the person staff came to, when something went wrong, as opposed to either of the brides. He could do that. He’d brainstormed solutions to all possible problems he could think of, in advance. He was determined to make sure nothing interrupted the celebration. 

Dinner was great, he managed to get through his speech without stuttering, the toasting was loud, and before he knew it, he was helping Sonia and Nessa into the cabin, which Carl had meticulously painted the precise hue of blue and white to go with the colors of their wedding, waving them off as they headed out back to their suite in the Rose before their honeymoon trip. 

“Come here,” Raihan said, tugging him away from his phone with a mischievous smile. “You look dashing and I demand a dance. Or twenty.” 

“But—” Leon started to protest, even though it rang pretty hollow considering he was very much following Raihan to the dancefloor. 

“The brides are off now,” Raihan pointed out, “you can loosen up a little, Lee.” 

“Got a few more hours to go, still,” Leon replied, though he was halfway bouncing in time with the bass already. “Nessa’s parents will take over at six.” 

“You did good,” Raihan insisted, clearly not about to let go, “you deserve to have fun too.” 

Leon laughed and reckoned he could afford to dance with his boyfriend, considering most of the remaining guests were either dancing or drinking or valiantly doing both. It was nice. It was so nice, in fact, that it unfortunately allowed him to relax enough to let his mind wander, and it inevitably circled back to wondering what kind of reception Raihan would like to have. 

Helping out Nessa and Sonia had allowed Leon to see from up close just how many things needed to be decided, for a wedding to go through. From the general colors of the decorations to the kind of food being served, to the music played and the clothes and the entertainment and a million other things that had seemed almost exhaustingly daunting to him, in the build up for the wedding, and it hadn’t even been for _his_ wedding. 

So now he thought about it, and he had to admit the color on his face had little to do with the dancing or the drinking, and everything to the fact he’d concluded he’d be okay with any kind of wedding, provided it was what Raihan wanted. 

“You ever thought about getting married?” Raihan asked him, sometime around five, when most people were gone and they’d migrated back to their empty table, watching stragglers dance and laugh and drink some more. 

Leon did not choke on his drink because he needed air to do that and he was currently under a sever lack of it, what with the fact his lungs had frozen in place and refused to work entirely. After two false starts, he swallowed hard and shrugged, just barely hanging onto the pretense that he wasn’t having a meltdown in slow motion. 

“I guess?” He said slowly, carefully, because enunciating was hard and he was possibly drunker than he’d originally intended, and simultaneously not drunk enough at all. “I mean, it’s… it’s pretty common, back home. You grow up, find someone to settle down, marry and have kids.” 

“And two million wooloo to boot too,” Raihan added, teasingly. Leon laughed and worried he’d laughed too loud or too shrilly immediately as he did. Raihan, however, went on without comment. “I don’t know, I guess it’s an option I’ve never really thought too hard about. A lot of my siblings have gotten married,” he added, staring down at his glass as he swirled it in place. “But just as many haven’t. So… I guess it’s just something that comes up eventually, huh?” 

“I guess, yeah,” Leon said, shrugging so hard he nearly shrugged out of his suit. “It’s a big commitment.” 

“Another way to say forever, huh?” Raihan replied, eyebrows arched, and for some reason the entirety of Leon’s throat dried up as he did. But then Raihan laughed and took another sip of his glass. “They looked happy, Sonia and Nessa,” Raihan said, as he put his glass down. He smiled at Leon. “I’m happy for them.” 

“Me too,” Leon whispered, and didn’t immediately walk out into the sea because Sonia would never forgive him for abandoning her reception for the sake of melodrama. 

But gods above, he was _tempted._

* * *

The Annual Dragon Conference happened as scheduled. 

Leon eased back on logistics as he coached Seb in the nuances of PR posturing and keeping calm under pressure. Everything was ready, of course, planned and paid for well in advance, but even with everything in place, there still needed to be someone who called the shots and guided things. Leon was good at that, and he tried his best to teach Seb how to do it. Leon knew, matter of fact, that he was good at it, but until he started breaking it down into bits that Seb could learn, he’d never realized how much he knew about it. It was a bit like learning how to teach someone how to fight, it seemed the sort of innate thing that he did thoughtlessly, but now he knew how to unpack it into something he could teach. He wasn’t, all things considered, that terrible at teaching, either. 

It was very different, this year, from last. It seemed dumb to say that, because of course it was, but it _felt_ very different, this year, compared to last. He felt himself preening with excitement to show off his home region and make sure every single one of their guests had a fantastic time. This time, he was comfortable wearing his Hammerlocke uniform and he knew he belonged right where he was. There was no second thoughts about his worthiness, of his right to be exactly where he was. 

It made the Conference a lot more fun this time around, honestly. 

“C’mon,” Zinnia said, grabbing his arm and forcefully dragging him away from the cluster of Gym Trainers he’d been in the process of giving tasks to. “You owe me a rematch.” 

“But—” 

“If you think you’re not about to go through a literal gauntlet of rematches,” she pointed out, heading straight for the pitch, where most of the people Leon had beaten soundly the previous year were waiting, “you’ve got another thing coming, rookie boy.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called a rookie in my life,” Leon pointed out, more as an observation than anything. He laughed. “But I suppose today is a free afternoon in the itinerary, huh.” 

“Ah, Leon,” Lance said, as they approached, “Raihan was just telling us about your talents when it comes to dynamaxing battles.” 

Raihan, because he was Raihan, flashed Leon a victory sign and a fang-baring grin. Leon grinned back, euphoria bubbling up his lungs. 

“I might know a thing or two,” he said, and reckoned Seb could probably handle the last pending items to make sure dinner was ready for that day. 

He tended to flourish when Leon wasn’t there, holding his hand, after all. 

“Dibs,” Zinnia announced, patting him hard on the back, “finder’s fee and all.” 

Well, given that everyone was taking it for granted that they were going to spend the afternoon battling, who was he to say no? It’d be poor manners, and he’d loathe to show anything but the best of Hammerlocke’s hospitality. 

* * *

Leon was naked, in bed, basking in a damn well-earned afterglow, when the call came in that the Rangers had reached Hulbury and were in the process of completing docking protocol. Raihan’s newfound habit to finger the nape of his neck whenever they were cuddling did not make it easier to crawl out of bed and get ready to be presentable. 

“Lee, it’s nearly eleven,” Raihan pointed out, sprawled in bed like a sensible person, as Leon came back into the room from the shower. “I’m pretty sure the meet and greet can wait til tomorrow.” 

“First impressions are important,” Leon insisted, drying himself furiously before he threw the towel to the side and started putting on what he’d ended up calling his cleans-up-nice-enough-for-photos suit. “It’s the first time Rangers have visited Galar since… you know.” 

“Mmm,” Raihan hummed, sitting up in bed with an arm behind his head. “Do you want me to come along? Moral support and all that?” 

“Nah, it’s okay,” Leon smiled as he fixed his tie. “One of them is a really big fan of Piers, so I might sneak them into the closing ceremony for the concert, though. You can meet them there! They’ll probably be nicer when they’re happy.” 

Raihan arched an eyebrow. 

“You sure you want to work with them?” 

“They’re friends with Piers,” Leon insisted, running his fingers through his hair, knowing now that it was so short that was really all it took for it to sort of fall back into place. “How bad can they be?” 

Raihan didn’t have anything to say to that, so Leon kissed him goodbye for a solid ten minutes, and then squirmed away before he was actually late. He carried Raihan’s laugh with him, on the flight to Hulbury, but thankfully it was cold out so no one would really pay much mind to the fact his face was burning when he arrived. 

“All sorted out and ready, sir!” One of the Macro Cosmo employees assured him, as soon as he was within earshot, waving excitedly. “Do you want us to make arrangements for dinner?” 

Leon hoped they wouldn’t, honestly. He wanted to go home and catch a few hours sleeping in Raihan’s arms before another full day of the Conference, coincidentally the one that involved a tour into the Wild Area. But it wasn’t his call to make. 

“I’ll tell you in a bit, let’s see how our guests are feeling!” Leon said brightly, because one of the things he’d pressed on Seb as part of working PR and receiving guests was how important it was to make everyone in the team feel committed to it. Like everyone had a stake in things going well. He’d managed to pull Macro Cosmo and the League through the aftershocks of Rose’s betrayal, just with that. And even now, long after he’d stepped down, people still remembered. “Can you show me the way?” 

The MC staffer – Mark, he introduced himself, chatting up cheerfully with Leon as they made they way down the docks – took him to the private dock that had been in reserve for the Rangers’ use ever since they’d confirmed they were coming. It used to house one of Rose’s company branded boats, which Leon had sold to make room in the pier, considering he was never going to use it and it was just another of those dumb status expenses in the books. The result, however, was slightly comical, considering the Ranger’s boat was significantly smaller than the boat it had replaced, and it was still surrounded by the large passenger fleet that Macro Cosmo used for its year long cruises around Galar. Leon’s reasoning was that the industrial or people transport ports were too busy for the Rangers to feel comfortable, considering Piers said they mainly lived in their boat. They were tucked away in a nice, quiet part of the pier, far away enough no one would bother them, more so with the MC checkpoint keeping nosy people from getting too close. 

“Hi!” Leon said, as he approached the twins with a little wave. “Welcome to Galar. How was the trip?” 

“They gave us keycards,” Kell replied, squinting for all they were worth down their nose at Leon. They had an MC branded ID lanyard in their hand and they were shaking it at Leon like it was a terrible offense. “Why did they give us keycards?” 

Leon blinked. 

“Oh, that’s… technically speaking you’re coming here as private contractors that I hired on behalf of the MC conglomerate to conduct the environmental survey of Galar,” he explained, clinging onto the politely cheerful smile twice as hard as he normally would, considering Mark was still standing behind him and Leon wanted to make sure the MC staff took their cues from him. “You’re not Macro Cosmo employees, of course, but you’re… guests. You can use those to access pretty much anything you need in Galar: corviknight taxis, the train network, bike rentals, the monorail in Wyndon, and pretty much all private establishments in Galar will be able to take those and swipe them like a payment card. I figured you’d like your privacy, so you can also use those to come and go from the pier and your boat at your leisure.” 

“I see,” Neri, who was not squinting suspiciously at Leon, said, turning the card in her hands thoughtfully. “So how do we put money in it?” 

Leon frowned. 

“Why would you need to put money in it?” 

Neri stared back. 

“You just said we could use these to pay for stuff, so…” 

Leon shrugged. 

“I mean, yes, but that’s because MC is absorbing the costs of your stay,” he explained, and tried hard to not lose his smile or worry too much at the blank look on their faces. “You’re our guests,” he insisted, “very important guests, at that. We just want to make sure you don’t have any problems during your stay. Besides, we’d agreed to cover the expenses, as a gesture of good will. This is how we’ll do it.” 

There was a long moment of silence that stretched awkward and terrible, the longer no one said anything. 

“Are you saying we can charge whatever we want?” Neri asked, in a tone that made Leon feel he wasn’t actually understanding the question. “Just like that?” 

“Yes?” Leon resisted the urge to frown at the fact Kell’s suspicious squint got, if possible, squintier. “Anyway, we still have a couple days left at the Annual Dragon Conference over in Hammerlocke so I was wondering if you’d be okay with taking the rest of the week off just to… settle in and see the sights, and then we can meet on Monday to talk more about what the plan is. There’s going to be a concert in Hammerlocke on Friday, which you’re very welcome to attend. Piers is the mainliner for that. Just give me a call if you’re interested and I’ll send someone to pick you up for that. And of course, I was wondering if you’d like to go out for dinner now, or if we should leave the official welcoming meal for Monday—” 

“Monday,” the twins replied, in unison. 

“I’ll leave you to your rest, then,” Leon said, smiling through the urge to wince at how relieved they sounded. “If you need anything, Mark here will be manning the checkpoint tonight,” Mark saluted playfully, beaming. “When in doubt, just look for the MC logo and people will be more than happy to help.” 

“Right,” Kell said, clearly not convinced. “Good night, then.” 

“Night!” Neri said, waving them off with a bit more cheer than her sibling. 

And that, for the time being, was that. 

* * *

“That was awful of you,” Leon said, sitting with Piers in the waiting room that had been converted to a dressing room for his concert. 

That, of course, referring to the tidy bit of trolling Piers had inflicted on Lance upon arrival, as per Raihan’s request, which had ended up with the erstwhile dragon tamer absolutely drunk and muttering his misery into his cousin’s lap, while she patted his head placatingly and ignored him entirely. 

“Yep,” Piers replied, not looking away from the mirror as he went about fixing his eyeliner. 

“Absolutely terrible,” Leon insisted, grin tugging at his lips as he gave Pier’s obstagoon scritches. “Don’t suppose you’re doing that again any time soon?” 

Piers stopped and turned to look at him for a moment, before he smiled and went back to painting a perfectly symmetrical line across his eyelid with what Leon reckoned had to be some kind of witchcraft. 

“Careful, Princess,” he said, grinning at Leon through the mirror’s reflection, “that didn’t sound PR approved at all.” 

“A little non-PR approved sass,” Leon replied, winking, “as a treat.” He shook his head. “Your friends are here, by the way! The Rangers, I mean.” 

“Took you on the job after all, huh?” Piers said, nodding to himself. “That’s good.” He paused. “They’re good people.” 

“I mean, they’re your friends,” Leon pointed out, shrugging. “I’m sure they are.” 

Piers gave Leon one of those looks he sometimes did, when Leon caught him by surprise and he wasn’t sure how to respond to it. Then he sighed. 

“I guess it’s only your side of the bargain left,” Piers said, one eyebrow arched. 

“As soon as they find anything,” Leon nodded, “you’ll know.” 

“Good,” Piers said, nodding back, resolute. Then he stretched his arms above his head, making his spine crack something awful as he did, before he let his arms fall down and he slouched forward again. “C’mon, Princess, gotta wow them fancy folk.” 

Considering how good he was, Leon had no doubt that Piers was absolutely about to wow their guests. But he was right, it was almost time for Raihan to announce Piers’ concert and Leon wanted to get to his seat in time to enjoy the whole thing, so off they went. 

* * *

“If I ask you something,” Raihan said, later that night, as they sat on the empty pitch, staring at the vaulted ceiling above, long after everyone else had left, “do you promise not to freak out about it?” 

“No,” Leon replied, laughing as he leaned in to rest his head on Raihan’s shoulder. “But I’ll try my best not to.” 

Raihan snorted as he curled an arm around Leon’s back, tucking him in place. There was something powerful, about sitting in the stadium when it was empty, the way sound carried and echoes of the screaming crowds lingered even when it was quiet out. The best part of their weekly battles was to just… sit down and breathe, while the euphoria ran its course and they could actually talk again. Before he’d come to Hammerlocke, Leon had never truly felt attached to a field the way he did the stadium. Stadiums and pitches were just the places he battled those who aspired to take his crown, but the place itself didn’t matter, just the fight. Just the people and the pokemon and the inevitable victory when they invariably came up short. It wasn’t anything personal, it just was the way it’d always been. 

Hammerlocke was different though. And perhaps it was just a combination of coincidences: moving in with Raihan, rediscovering his affinity to ghost pokemon and talents that came with it, becoming a Gym Trainer and spending so much time in a single place. Maybe. But Hammerlocke was _special._ There were stories, in every stone and arch and column. There were whispers trapped in the stands, a collective memory that tickled the edge of Leon’s awareness when he wasn’t fully focused on any given task. But it was… a good memory. It wasn’t sad or tragic or otherwise regretful: Hammerlocke hummed with pride and excitement and the thrill of a good battle, where the outcome didn’t matter, only the fact both sides had gone in with everything they had. It reminded Leon of the way Raihan snarled at him in the heat of it, pushing hard, demanding more. 

Hammerlocke felt like home, all the way down to the foundations of the Keep. 

“I suppose that’s as good as I’m gonna get,” Raihan said, chuckling as he kissed Leon’s temple, expression kind. “Okay. Here goes.” He took a deep breath. “What are you going to do, once the Battle Tower is operational? Are you… are you going to move to Wyndon?” Leon startled, but before he could answer, Raihan rushed out the words. “It’s okay if that’s what you want. I’m not… I’m not kicking you out or asking you to leave, but I also… I don’t want you to feel you have to stay here, if you don’t want to. I can… I can figure things out, if you want to move. Don’t feel you have to do anything, on my account.” 

Leon reached out to tilt Raihan’s face so he could kiss him. It was a very nice kiss, at that. They’d gotten really good at those, what with all the practice they had. Raihan did that thing he’d been doing lately, where he brushed a hand through Leon’s hair and then wrapped his fingers along the back of his head, because he still wasn’t used to there not… being so much hair. Leon thought it was kind of cute, every time it happened. And it was nice. Kissing like that, it was nice. Even though it was like three in the morning and the Conference guests still needed to be ferried out to the airport in batches the next day, which was technically already that day. It was nice. 

“If it all works out,” Leon said, when they broke apart, “and that’s still a big if, but if it all works out, I’m hoping I’ll be able to keep tabs on stuff without having to move. I’m going to hire a bunch of staff and get the ball rolling and maybe not… you know, let it consume me. I’d like to keep my job at Hammerlocke, even if everything goes well. To stay with you, just the way we are, now. Only… a bit different. Is that… selfish of me?” 

Raihan smiled, eyes bright. 

“Terribly,” Raihan said, and leaned in to kiss the corner of Leon’s mouth. “I approve wholeheartedly.” 

Leon grinned. 

“I guess you’ll have to put up with me in your home for a while longer still, Rai.” 

Raihan laughed, a surprised noise deep from his chest. 

“I mean, you do pay rent, in food even,” he said, delighted. “Where would I ever find a better tenant?” 

Yes, Leon decided. Hammerlocke was home, for many, many reasons he could not name and quite a few that he could. And home was right where he belonged. 

* * *

On Monday, they came home late after the small party in the staff room to celebrate getting through the Conference in one piece and without incident. Seb was positively glowing, in the aftermath of things, and he’d be taking time off in the winter to visit his sisters. He’d told Leon about it three separate times and he’d been so excited about it, Leon hadn’t had the heart to point it out. The meeting with the Rangers in the morning had been surprisingly brief, in so much as they pointed out they needed resources and Leon reminded them they had the entirety of Macro Cosmo at their disposal. Then they’d kicked him out and told him they’d call him again when they had something to say. He wasn’t a Ranger and he didn’t know what their work entitled, so he reasoned the best he could do was leave them to it. 

It’d be fine. 

“Catch,” Nan said, throwing a bundle of clothes straight at Leon’s head the moment he walked through the door into the kitchen. 

It nailed him in the face with uncanny precision and sent him stumbling back straight into Raihan’s arms. 

“Nan?” Leon asked, blinking, as he realized it was a set of channeler robes, and then looked up to find his Nan sitting comfortably in their kitchen table, her golurk doing its name justice by lurking ominously behind her, while her small army of goletts loitered the kitchen in silence. “What are you doing here?” 

“Picking you up,” Nan said, pushing herself out of the chair. She was wearing her robes, as well, which did not bode well as far as Leon could imagine. “We’re leaving as soon as you’re done changing.” 

“Leaving where?” Raihan asked, before Leon could say anything. “What’s going on?” 

Nan gave him a long, considering look, and it said something about Raihan, as a person, that he didn’t wilt in the slightest. 

“The Crown Tundra,” Nan said, shaking her head irritably. “Someone went and unsealed the stupid horse again.” 

“Oh,” Leon said, feeling himself pale. “That’s bad.” 

“Yes,” Nan deadpanned, and then arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re still here.” 

“Right!” Leon said, snapping out of it. “Sorry. I’ll just…” He nodded at the stairs and then turned and scurried away. 

“Um, hi, Leon’s Nan,” he heard Raihan say, as he started up the stairs, two steps at the time, “sorry. When you say _Crown Tundra_ , do you mean the frozen wasteland in the south of the continent? The one surrounded by an impenetrable mountain range? _That_ Crown Tundra?” 

Leon didn’t hear Nan’s response to that, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. 

Crap. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/notavodkashot), if you'd like.
> 
> My growing collection of Hammerlocke Gym Trainer Leon grows: [here](https://twitter.com/Noskka/status/1324109789316657153), [here](https://twitter.com/notavodkashot/status/1325471738147332102), [here](https://twitter.com/notavodkashot/status/1325500955660521478) and [here](https://twitter.com/notavodkashot/status/1321455955062804480).


End file.
